Substitute Teachers
by EmilySamara
Summary: Okay... title kinda sucks but makes sense. The Big 8 have been assigned a special mission: to become temporary substitute teachers at an American high school! With "normal" names and knowledge to rival a computer, what could possibly... go... wrong...?
1. Introduction

**Okay... this is my first time ever writing for Hetalia, and I'm a little nervous. But oh well! I haven't really read many of the Hetalia fanfictions, so I don't know if there's some sort of custom you guys have while writing or anything. Be nice, please!**

**EDIT: What is with this site and screwing up my italics every time I publish something? ARGH!**

It was a beautiful day.

Well, actually... no... 'cause it was thunderstorming at Switzerland's place, Japan was suffering from heavy clouds and fog, Russia was being bombarded by a blizzard, and Germany was sulking in the rain.

But when America opened his eyes one fine October morning, it was beautiful outside. So, naturally, he took that to mean that it was beautiful everywhere. Even if there was a hurricane brewing in the southern part of his own country.

A wide grin came across America's face. He had just finished a bunch of paperwork and pushed a crap-ton of looming problems farther back into the horizon. Now he wouldn't have to worry for another month or so. America thought this and was happy.

After hurriedly dressing, grooming (as in washing the palms but not the backs of his hands and the bottom half but not the top half of his face), and giving himself a short pep talk, America was ready to face the beautiful day.

"I'm the hero!" He declared, even though no one could hear. Then he pulled out his brand-new iPhone 4S and checked his e-mail.

"Crap, message from the boss," the American muttered as he thumbed through his inbox. Sighing irritatedly, he opened the urgent-marked e-mail and read:

_Dude-important meeting today. 9:00 sharp! All of the Big 8 gonna b there. U gotta come.~B_

"Grrrrrrrrr," America growled. He had been looking forward to a day of snacking on hamburgers and playing video games. Now he actually had to _do _something. Bugger.

_Britain__'__s __really __been __rubbing __off __on __me __lately_, America thought with an eye roll as he checked his watch. Perfect, 8:00. He could stop off for some breakfast before the meeting.

"McDonald's hash browns, here I come!" America zipped up his jacket and dashed out the door. You could never keep an American unhappy for long.

...

America, feeling proud of himself for arriving fifteen minutes early, was greeted by the punctual Britain, China, and Japan outside the meeting room.

"Hey, dudes, what's up?" America asked cheerfully.

Japan, always the literal one, shrugged. "None of us know. It seems this meeting is very confidential."

"How responsible, America, to show up early," Britain approved. Then, condescendingly, "the ketchup and syrup stains on your shirt really pull the 'classy' look off."

"Thanks, Britain!" America said, disregarding the second comment and being pleased by the first.

All three nations turned at the sound of a door opening, an exasperated sigh, and a cry of "VEEEH~!"

"Herro, Germany-san. _Konichiwa_, Itary-kun," Japan greeted his two good friends.

"Hey, Japan!" Italy responded energetically. "What's up with this meeting, huh?"

Japan huffed in exasperation. "I just finish expraining to America."

"Vhoa, Japan. You know vhat's going on?" Germany asked, surprised.

Japan quietly stomped his foot on the ground. "_No_. I exprain to America that no one know 'what's up.'"

"Oh." Italy looked mildly disappointed, then perked up and turned around at the sound of the door. His perkiness turned to a somewhat-mild form of extreme terror when he saw a tall, tall shape in the doorway slowly begin walking toward them.

"_Dobre __otra_, Italy." Italy felt a large, cold hand pat him painfully on the head.

"You too, America." America winced.

"And Britain..." The large northern nation regarded the Brit with cold violet eyes and a sweet smile before turning to the long-haired Asian. "China..."

China nodded, backing away slightly and raising his arms. The instigator gave a small giggle and turned to the slightly-shorter-than-himself blue-eyed nation. "Herr Deutschland..." Even Germany shuddered a little, but quickly composed himself. "And _konichiwa_, Japan-san."

"_Konichiwa _to you too, Russia-san," Japan greeted him politely. Russia apparently didn't notice the underlying fear in the Asian's voice.

"Of course, that frog _would _be late..." Britain irritably checked his pocketwatch, trying slightly to ease the fear caused by Russia's arrival but also genuinely annoyed at France's lateness. It was nearly 9:00.

"Sorry if you missed moi~"

Britain rolled his green eyes at the sound of the French accent. "At least we're all here now."

Scarcely had he spoken the words that the doors to the meeting room opened and America's boss hollered at them what the hell took them so long and to get their asses inside.

...

"So, like... what exactly is this all about?" America asked.

"It's kind of simple, really," his boss replied reassuringly. "We'd just like you all to have a little more contact with the _citizens _of your countries."

"Eh?" Russia cocked his head to the side. "I am not understanding what you mean."

"What we've arranged is a chance for the eight of you-and maybe some of your less important friends later on-to enter an American-"

"WHOOOOO! AMERICA!"

All of the nations and their bosses turned incredulously to America, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Go on," the American said sweetly after a short and awkward silence.

"As I was saying..." his boss went on semi-calmly, "we would like you to enter as substitute teachers in an American high school for a day. We've chosen America because of its diversity. Well? What do you think?" He sat back, nervous and hopeful.

The effect, surprisingly, was quite positive.

"It seems like this would be good opportunity to teach and learn-aru," China said, nodding.

"Yes. I approve as well," Japan agreed.

"Sounds pretty awesome!" America pumped his fist into the air.

"How exciting this will be!" Russia sighed dreamily.

"What exactly will we be teaching ze leetle children?" France inquired.

"You'll learn vhen you get zhere," Germany's boss answered. "Any ozzer qvestions?"

Italy cautiously raised his hand.

"Yes, Italy?"

"WILL WE BE GETTING ANY PAST-"

"_NO_!"

"Good grief, can ve just go now?" Germany muttered, facepalming.

"There is one more thing." America's boss opened a folder and took out a sheet of paper. "As you may or may not know, you cannot use your true country names when doing this. You need to come across as a normal citizen, _not _the human embodiment of your country. Thus, we have prepared a list of normal, human names for you."

The reactions of the countries after their "normal" names were announced was not as positive.

"Dude! This is like the lamest name ever!" America whined. "It sounds stupid!"

"This name is far too common. Couldn't I have something a little more dignified?" Britain huffed.

"I agree! Is far too ordinary and widespread for my tastes!" China said angrily. "Would prefer some awesome name like... like Shi Huangdi!"

"Kind of reminds me of Tzars from good years past~" Russia mused dreamily.

"Veh... this is kinda long... and hard to pronounce." Italy wrinkled his nose.

"Eh... vhy does my surname say '_to __be __announced__'_?" Germany asked.

"Oh... we couldn't think of anything. Just choose your own."

"So unprofessional," the tall German spat.

"Mine sounds quite, eh... pompous?" France shook his head. "_Non_... eh, I guess it's okay..."

"That's the spirit!" America's boss laughed.

"I can find nothing outrighting wrong about this name," Japan said unsurely. "I not riking the name itserf is probrem."

"Well, you're using them," America's boss said in a finite manner amid the countries' groans. "Hey, c'mon. This'll be fun!"

"I guess," America pouted.

"Hey, these names aren't _zat _bad compared to some of the ozzers zhey've chosen for za lesser countries!" Germany pointed a large finger at the human name for Prussia. All the countries howled with laughter. Even the composed Japan let out a chuckle.

"Now, just step through this super-cool, high-tech, Japanese-made door and you'll be transported straight to the high school!" America's boss said excitedly. "Have fun! But try not to break anything!"

**Epic thing about being a writer: expressing one's own emotions through characters! Although I actually do think that that's how the characters would react if they had been given "human names." Really, so stupid. They are the _actual __countries_, not just citizens representing the countries. They are America, Latvia, Russia, etc. _Not _Alfred, Raivis, Ivan, etc. I know a lot of people will disagree with me for my opinion on that, but oh well. Please review!**


	2. DUDE! IT'S TOTALLY GYM!

It was 7:15 on a bright and early American morning, and the students of a certain high school were busy bustling to their first period class and seeking out their friends. They had no idea how much of an impact this day would make on their lives. All some of them had heard was that a teacher was sick, a substitute was coming, rumors, blah blah blah.

The sophomores and freshmen who had gym first period were already getting changed.

"I hear we have a substitute teacher today," a cautious, skeptical Chinese girl named Amy Yang told her Canadian friend Elena Sima.

"Good. I didn't want to do that adventure unit thing today," Elena sighed back. She was a serious and studious girl who always had a pensive expression on her face.

The two, accompanied by their kind, calm, Polish-rooted friend Gwyn, made their way out of the locker room towards the gym and got an eyeful of the rumored substitute. He had his back to them, but Elena, Amy, and Gwyn could tell that he had messy, ashy blond hair and seemed rather young. He was wearing blue-and-white Nikes, red sweatpants, and a white shirt with the number 50 on the back.

"Excuse me, sir?" Amy asked hesitantly. The man turned. He had a wide, slightly nervous smile, glasses, and big blue eyes. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, maybe even younger.

"Hey! Are you guys part of the 1B frosh-soph class?"

Elena nodded.

"Awesome, dudes! Is, uh..." the man picked up a Coca-Cola bottle from the ground and took a swig. "Is this all of you?"

Gwyn shook her head. "Nah, there's a lot more coming."

"Is that them?" He pointed at the door, where the rest of Gwyn, Amy, and Elena's class was beginning to file in.

"Yeah," the three girls said unanimously.

"Awesome!" He said again. "Okay, everyone sit down and I'll tell you what we're doing today!"

Slowly, the group of around 25 or so freshmen and sophomores took their seats on the basketball court. The man's grin grew wider.

"Hey, high school dudes! I... am gonna be your substitute gym teacher for today. Cool, huh? Anyway, my name is..." He held a clipboard in his hand, punctuating each part of his name with a smack on the clipboard. "Alfred... F... Jones." He shrugged. "Stupid name, I know." The class laughed. Although America didn't know it, that was good news for him. "Call me Coach Jones, 'kay? Okay, so today we're gonna play an awesome game of dodgeball!" The class cheered.

"O-_kay_! I am gonna be choosing your teams!" America smiled at all the little Americans. He wondered why some looked like they were from China's house. Others looked like they were from Poland's or Germany's houses. America gave a mental shrug. They were all American, like him.

After he finished divvying up the teams, one boy raised his hand.

"Yeah, cool dude with the Livestrong bracelet?"

The boy smiled. He looked like he was from Italy's house. "Hey... uh, Coach Jones, these teams are really unequal."

It was plain to see that he was right. His team was considerably smaller and seemed to contain more unathletic kids than the other.

"Well, of course, dude! I made 'em that way so _I_could play!" With that, America tossed his clipboard aside and grabbed a couple of dodgeballs. "Who's ready?"

A huge cheer came up, with the team America had joined being loudest.

"You any good at sports?" America asked Elena, who looked displeased.

Elena shook her head.

America chuckled. "Just watch and learn! 'Cause I'm the hero!"

The kids looked at him with question marks in their eyes. He responded with a wider grin.

"Ready...! Set...! GO!"

The kids and their peppy teacher rushed forwards and grabbed as many balls **(yeah,****haha,****that****'****s****what****she****said)**as they could and started chucking them at each other. America may have been rail thin, but he was strong and never missed his target. Pretty soon, the smaller team with the unathletic kids was winning by a lot. Elena, who was basically running away and trying not to get hit, was impressed by the slightly odd teacher's performance.

The game was over pretty quickly. America's team won by miles.

"Coach Jones?" An annoying girl named Julia Snide said, raising her hand. "I, like, think it's super unfair that you played. The coach shouldn't play in the game."

"You know what? Screw you! I'm the hero, _and_your teacher! Drop and gimme ten!"

Julia's mouth fell open as the other students struggled to contain their laughter.

"I meant drop to the ground and then push up ten times, not drop open your mouth! Ten push-ups! Go!"

Whining and muttering curses, Julia slumped to the ground, did ten of the lamest, wimpiest push-ups ever, and then pouted.

"_Plus_..." the weird-yet-cheerful coach said as he dragged an enormous duffel bag towards the class. "You're getting last pick! Your burger's gonna be all squished!"

Before the class could react, the food-loving American unzipped his duffel bag and revealed dozens of individually wrapped McDonald's hamburgers.

"Dig in, guys!" The class had no trouble in obliging.

"Thanks so much, Coach Jones!" Gwyn said cheerfully as she unwrapped her burger.

America, who had already unwrapped two and was happily munching away, grinned. "You're welcome! Every American should have at least one hamburger a day in _my_opinion. Eat up!"

Pretty soon, the coach saw someone who wasn't eating.

"Hey! You! Eat up, I said! What's wrong with you?"

All eyes moved to Elena, who looked sour.

"For one thing, I don't like hamburgers," she said with a little embarrassed smile. "And for another thing, I'm Canadian."

"Ah... what? Oh... oh yeah! Haha! You're from Canadia? So's my twin brother, uh..." the ashy-blond-haired teacher looked like he was trying to remember something. "Yeah! My twin brother!" He grinned nervously. "Anyways... moving on! How much time is left in this class, anyway?"

"Twenty minutes," Gwyn said helpfully.

"Okay! For the next twenty minutes... we will all..." America looked at the ceiling. "Canadian person!" He pointed at Elena. "What do you want to do?"

"Uh..." Elena thought for a minute. "Do... nothing! And... talk!"

A big cheer went up.

"C'mon, Coach Jones, just let us eat and talk!" The Italian-looking boy pleaded.

Coach America smiled. "Hahahahaha! Of course you can! And since you're all American... you're all heroes! Even you, Canadian person!"

"My name's Elena." Elena sounded nonplussed as she brushed off her shorts.

"Right! Elena!"

...

"Well, that was pretty much the weirdest guy I've ever seen," Elena muttered as she changed back into her school clothes.

"Very... all-American," Gwyn said with a strange smile.

"He so singled you out!" Amy laughed.

"I know," Elena groaned. Then, perkily and thoughtfully: "But he had a Canadian brother. That's cool.

"Now the rest of the day is gonna seem pretty normal in comparison," Elena said as they left for homeroom.

Oh, how wrong Elena was. How very, very wrong.

But unaware, she chatted easily with her Romanian friend Ioana as they entered their homeroom class.

Both completely ignored the quiet, blond-haired young man standing outside their homeroom classroom.

"Always," he sighed defeatedly, adjusting his glasses.

**FORESHADOWING! XD Anyway... how would you want Coach America for a gym teacher, eh? Leave any questions, comments, pie (mmm... pie) in the reviews, please!**


	3. Homeroom Teacher Who?

Elena and her friend Ioana, a pretty, loud, goofy, outgoing Romanian girl, sat down at their desks as the Homeroom bell rang. Immediately, Elena began ranting about the weird-but-cool gym teacher.

"I wonder what he'd have called you? Vampire chick?" Elena mused seriously.

"Shut up!" Ioana grinned, slapping Elena's arm. "Now come here, I need help on my science homework..."

Elena sighed and began instructing Ioana on how to properly fill the outer energy levels of a hydrogen molecule. They were half an hour in before...

"Yo!" Elena winced and scowled as she heard the annoying voice of Jack Smith, a preppy and arrogant kid. "Teach-whoa! WHO THE HELL ARE _YOU_?"

Elena, Ioana, and the rest of the class turned and were shocked to see someone who was most definitely _not _their homeroom teacher Ms. Wane. He was wearing a red hoodie and casual blue jeans and had shaggy, messy blond hair, glasses, and big blue eyes. It was...

"Hey, Coach Jones, what're you doing here? I didn't even notice you!" Suddenly, Elena realized that he could have just heard everything she had said about him. She ducked her head and pretended to text even though she didn't have a cell phone.

"Um..." He stood up and adjusted his glasses, giving a nervous smile to the open-mouthed kids. "Hey, guys. What's up, eh? I'm, uh... your substitute teacher for today. My name's Matthew Williams. You can call me Mr. Williams, okay?" He spoke in a very quiet, calming voice.

"Wait... weren't you just my gym teacher?" Elena asked. Then she excitedly exclaimed: "Oh, wait! Are you Coach Jones's Canadian twin brother?"

Canada smiled. "Yeah, you must have mistaken me for him." He laughed nervously. "People do that a lot."

"That's so cool!" Elena smiled. "I'm Canadian!"

"Wow, really? That's great!" Canada smiled again in the same nervous way. "Um... anyway, I'm your substitute... uh, homeroom teacher. So I guess you guys just do homework and stuff in this class, right?"

Elena nodded.

"O-kay." The low-self-esteemed teacher exhaled. "Well, uh... have fun then, eh?"

"How old are you?" A kid shouted out loudly from the back of the room.

The substitute jumped a little. "H-how old? Um... twenty...? Yeah, twenty." He let out a short burst of laughter.

The kids laughed too. But it wasn't really clear whether they were laughing with him or at him.

Luckily, the shy Canada was saved by the most unlikely of saviors. Well, actually, that would probably be Russia. But oh well.

"BRO! WHAT'S UP?" Coach Jones, a.k.a. America, literally slid into the room and bounded over to his very different twin brother.

"Why weren't you at the meeting earlier?" America asked happily.

"Um... I was. None of you noticed me. Again."

"Oh. Sorry. Anyway-HI CANADIAN PERSON! I MEAN ELENA!"

"Hi, Coach Jones!" Elena replied, breaking into a grin.

America saluted her, then turned back to his brother. "I can't believe it..." He quickly glanced at Canada's nametag. "...Matthew Williams! I never saw you as a teacher!"

"Never saw you as one either, really, Alfred," Canada replied, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, see ya around, bro!" America said as he moseyed out.

"Is that your brother?" Jack Smith asked incredulously.

"Uh... yeah. Sorry about that."

"He's a total spaz! But, like... in a good way!"

Canada blinked, then adjusted his glasses. "Eh... okay?"

He sighed in exhaustion, then slowly walked back to his desk and opened up a large pet-carrier, oblivious to the fact that the students were still staring at him. He wasn't used to so much attention.

"Okay, Kumacheerio, I think you can come out now." To the students' surprise, the soft-spoken teacher reached inside the pet-carrier and brought out what looked to be...

"Is that a frickin' polar bear?" Jack Smith asked.

"Yeah." Canada hoisted the white, furry mass of adorableness onto his lap and hugged it tightly.

"Epic," Jack whispered.

"OMG! CAN WE PET IT?" Ioana screeched.

The easily rattled Canadian flinched. "Sure, if you stop screaming."

One by one, the students all lined up to pat and huggle the cute bear. Before they knew it, it was time to leave and they had barely gotten to know their secretly awesome teacher.

After they left, Canada exhaled loudly.

"Quite a hit you made there, eh, Kumacheerio?"

"Who are you?"

"_I__'__m __Canada, __dammit_!"

...

"God, could he have _been _any more Canadian?" Jack snickered. Elena shot him a death glare, which silenced him.

"Wow, I actually don't know which one was awesomer," Elena said to Ioana. "Hamburgers versus a polar bear?"

Ioana shrugged. "I hear we have a substitute for Global, too."

"Well, surely he can't be as exciting as Mr. Williams or Coach Jones."

Once again, Elena was horribly, yet hilariously, wrong.

**Sorry for somewhat-late update... I have school and it's NOT as fun as when taught by countries. Anyway... any questions or comments will be fine in a review!**


	4. Time for Global now, da?

Elena and Ioana entered their Global classroom. Their teacher wasn't there yet, but that was fairly normal and they barely even registered it. What they _did_do was get out their notebooks and start cramming for the pop quiz that they would surely have.

"When did the Mongols rule China?" Ioana asked Elena.

"I don't know."

"What's the capital of Russia?"

"Kiev."

"Who did the Russians get their ideas from?"

"Either the Persians or the Seljuks, I don't remember. Stop bothering me, I'm trying to study!"

Before they knew it, the bell had rung. Groaning, the girls put their notebooks away out of habit, only to realize that their teacher Mr. Renaid still hadn't arrived.

"Where's Mr. Renai..." Elena started to ask out loud, then stopped mid-word and stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the door.

Not everyone noticed the figure in the doorway at first, but gradually, everyone did and stopped talking.

Standing in the doorway was the tallest, palest man any of them had ever seen. He had hair so ashy blond that it appeared to be grayish silver, violet eyes, and a strange, sweet smile, and wore a long white scarf and long gray trench coat.

The tall man smiled wider, showing his teeth. "Ah. It seems that I was a little late getting here, _da_? I apologize, sweet children."

He walked slowly to the blackboard, smiling the whole time, then picked up a piece of chalk and slowly and meticulously wrote something on the blackboard. It looked like:

Иван Брагинский

Then, under it, he wrote:

IVAN BRAGINSKI

in well-spaced, capital letters. Then he turned to the class.

Russia smiled widely in glee. "My name is Ivan Braginski," he said in a thick, frightening Russian accent. "And I will be your substitute teacher for today, _da_?"

None of the children responded. Although they couldn't quite explain _what _was so terrifying about the tall Russian, they all knew that the goosebumps on all their arms and legs were definitely not from the chalk squeaks.

"Are you Russian, Mr. Braginski?" A quiet Chinese girl named Michelle Dai asked him.

"Yes, indeed I am, sweetie." He held out his arms to the class, closing his eyes. "And soon, all of you will be too." He paused, _still _smiling. "Because someday, you will _all _become one with Mother Russia, _da_?" He turned to Michelle, who shrank backwards.

Again, he received no answers, but still seemed unfazed. By now, all of the students who were intelligent enough to recognize the incredibly evil, uncomfortable aura radiating from Russia were almost petrified with fear. Unfortunately for them, some of the slower students in the class were snickering and whispering Russian jokes to each other.

Then Russia's violet eyes alighted upon Julia Snide, who was giggling and texting in the back of the class. Without letting down his disorienting smile, the tall man slowly walked over to the unaware girl and stood by her desk, casting a large shadow over her and causing her to look up. She giggled nervously.

"Uh, sorry, Mr. Bragski," she said with a weak grin as she began to slip her phone into his pocket. Suddenly, a strong, cold hand caught her wrist. She looked up to see the substitute's shadowy, smiling face looming five inches away from her.

"What are you doing, sweetie? Give the phone to me."

Whimpering, Julia slowly unfolded her hand. Russia grabbed the phone and slipped it into one of the numerous pockets of his long coat. He was walking back to his desk when an annoying, loud and arrogant voice rang out.

"Hey, Teach! I think you can take off the scarf and mittens now. We got something called _heat_. Ever heard of it?"

Russia slowly turned his head to the arrogant boy, Jack Smith. His purple eyes took on a cold, murderous light, but the smile remained.

"I don't think you want to see me angry, child." The quiet, deadly voice coupled with the Russian accent made for a warning so terrifying that any kid with half a brain would have shut the hell up right then.

But not Jack Smith.

Poor, poor, stupid Jack Smith.

"I don't know, do I, vodka-head?" He snickered under his breath.

The sweet grin finally dropped from the Russian's face. He bared his teeth at Jack and started walking towards him. Slowly at first, then faster. And he was speaking a single word over and over again:

"_Kolkolkolkolkolkolkolkolkol..._"

When he reached Jack's desk, he let out with a final, ultra-loud "_KOL_!" and grabbed Jack by his collar, literally dragging him out of the room.

Every kid in the room was dying to stand up and see what was going on outside, but they were too terrified of what the tall Russian would do if they were caught. All they could hear were the tantalizing screams of Jack and the soft singing of the sub.

"And streeeeeetch, ahahahahaha... and streeeeeeeetch~"

"HE'S STRETCHING ME! STREEEEEETCHING MEEEEEE!"

After three or four agonizing minutes, a smiling Russia returned to the classroom, dragging a traumatized Jack behind him.

"I think it is time to start now, _da_?" The tall, pale man strode over to the blackboard. "Today we learn about my homeland, Russia. Yay!" He sighed and spoke the words with a loving caress.

The students had never paid better attention to a class in their lives. For the next hour and a half, they memorized the entire history of Russia from the Byzantine influence to the Soviet Union. After a while, he began talking about Poland. In a very derogatory manner. Still smiling, of course.

"Unfortunately," he grinned while sketching a diagram on the board, "the Poles, you all know how slow they are, didn't quite realize how close Germany was to-"

"Mr. Braginski?" A calm, firm voice spoke up. Russia turned back to see a blond-haired girl with her hand raised. It was Elena's Polish-rooted friend Gwyn.

"Yes, dear?" Russia said in a singsong voice.

"I'm Polish. And I do _not _appreciate it when people use derogatory stereotypes for the Poles."

Gwyn didn't quite know why or how she was able to summon the courage to speak to Mr. Braginski like that. She knew everyone else was terrified and knew she should have been terrified as well, but for some strange reason, she wasn't.

The tall teacher regarded her for a moment. His expression behind the smile was unreadable.

"Very well, Miss...?"

"Gwyn."

"Very well, Miss Gwyn. I will not talk about the Polish that way anymore. Since it is the end of class. Go on, little children. Go on and eat lunch."

The kids didn't need to be told twice. Jack Smith was the first one out, followed by Julia Snide. Gwyn was the only one who took her time packing her things and was the last one out.

Elena, Ioana, and Gwyn stared back for a second at the silvery-haired substitute. He had sat down in a chair and was humming a little tune while stroking the petals of a sunflower.

"That..." Elena breathed. "Was the most terrifiying person I have ever, _ever _seen. Including your vampire-like dad, Ioana."

"I bet he's a pedophile or something," Ioana whispered. "Nobody smiles _that _much."

"I wonder what he did to poor Jack," Gwyn said ominously.

"I miss Mr. Williams and Coach Jones," Elena said sadly.

After a while of silence, Ioana brought up an interesting point.

"Where the hell did he find a sunflower in the middle of October?"

**Scaaaaary... poor stupid Jack. Wonder if he's Latvian? ;) What are your thoughts on Global Teacher Russia? Review!**


	5. Il Miglior Pranzo Mai

Elena, Ioana, and Gwyn made their way down to lunch, chatting incredulously about the very strange Global and awesome Gym and Homeroom subs. However, before even coming into sight of the doors to the lunchroom, they were met with a roadblock of angry, impatient students.

"Huh? What's going on?" Elena creened her neck to try and see over the crowd.

"Yo!" Ioana punched Amy Yang not too gently in the arm. "What's up here?"

Amy scowled, rubbing her bruised arm. "Ow! That really hurt!" She sighed. "Anyway, apparently we have a substitute lunch teacher today."

"DUDE! What is with all the substitutes today?" Ioana crossed her arms over her chest. "And whoever heard of a substitute lunch teacher, anyway?"

Even the normally calm and composed Gwyn seemed annoyed. "I bring my own lunch! How come we can't just eat?"

All of a sudden, a very excited-sounding voice crackled over a megaphone.

"Hey, all you high-schoolers! Sorry for the delay. My brothers and I-a wanted to make everything ab-a-solutely perfecto for your precious lunchtime!"

"What kind of accent is that?" Ioana hissed to Elena.

Elena was dumbfounded. "Uhhh... Spanish I think..."

"Now, feast-a your eyes and-a mouths on the world's greatest food ever-"

"TOMATOES!" A different voice cried, cutting the first one off.

"Okay, that one was _definitely _Spanish," Elena said, referring to the second voice. "I don't think the first one was."

"No, no, not tomatoes, silly! We are-a having tomatoes, but that's not the greatest food on Earth!"

Presently, the doors to the lunchroom were cracked open. The students let out one united gasp, absolutely astounded.

The normally drab, ordinary cafeteria had been transformed into a bright red, colorful food arena. Red crepe paper streamers were hung everywhere, as well as strings of garlic and tomatoes. Numerous red, green, and white tableclothed tables were set up throughout the cafeteria. Each table was piled high with delicacies that the hungry students could smell all the way from the doorway: garlic bread, dozens of kinds of pizza and salads, and most of all, there were bowls and bowls and bowls of sauce-covered...

"PASTA~!" Three men came running in from the door to the kitchen. The one in the middle was holding a megaphone in one hand and a sauce-covered spoon in the other and had obviously been the source of the most recent outburst. He had light brown hair with one long curl protruding to his left and wore a blue military uniform with a white apron over it, black knee-high boots, and a tie. His eyes were closed and he was smiling widely.

The man on the kids' right could have been the first man's twin, save for a few minor differences. His brown hair had the same style, but it was darker and his odd curl protruded to his right. His military uniform was similar, but neglected the apron and was colored tan. His eyes were open, and he was frowning, with his arms crossed over his chest.

The last man, the one on the kids' left, looked almost as cheerful and goodhearted as the first and was wearing a similar outfit as the second, but the sleeves to his tan jacket and his pant legs were rolled up. He, too, had dark brown hair, but in a different style. He was also tanner than the other two. He held a fresh, ripe, red tomato in each hand.

The one in the middle laughed and grinned wider, untying his apron. "_Ciao_, _ragazzi_! My name is..." He paused for emphasis. "Feliciano Vargas! And check it cool! These are my older brothers Romano-"

"Lovino!" The one to the right snapped. The kids giggled.

"Right! Lovi! And this is Antonio Something-Or-Other!"

The one holding the tomatoes smiled good-naturedly. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," he said slowly in a Spanish accent. He winked at some girls in the front and tossed them one of his tomatoes. They shrieked, giggled, and whispered to each other.

"Dig in, everybody!" Italy Veneziano cried. A phrase that rang familar to Elena and Gwyn's ears, they once again had no problem obliging. Elena, Gwyn, and Ioana helped themselves to mountains of pasta and numerous slices of pizza.

As they were eating, the three men themselves surprisingly came over and sat right next to the three girls, who felt very flattered.

"_Come __va, __belle __donne_?" The young man in the blue suit asked in a sweet, silly accent. "How's it going, pretty girls?" He had opened his eyes, revealing them to be of a brownish amber.

"What's your name again?" Elena asked, not looking up.

"It's Feliciano Vargas!" Italy said proudly.

Elena nodded.

"This is all so delicious! Thank you guys so much!" Gwyn chirped.

"_Non __era __niente_. It was nothing," Italy replied, laughing. He had a kind, young, sweet-looking face and an adorable, lovable disposition. He reminded Gwyn of her little brother.

"Are you kidding me, Feliciano? We spent hours on this!" Romano snapped. He then focused his hard, angry amber eyes on Gwyn. "I'm-a glad you're enjoying it, though."

"Don't be such a downer, Lovi!" Spain laughed, clapping an unamused Romano on the back. The darker-haired Italy brother winced.

"So, what are you guys? Mexican?" Ioana asked.

All three looked offended, with Italy's being the mildest and Romano's being the strongest.

"Of-a course not!" Romano hissed. "I'm-a Italian, and so's my-a stupid little brother!" He gestured to Italy.

"And I'm Spanish," Spain said proudly.

"Jeez, sorry," Ioana mumbled.

Without warning, Spain chucked his other tomato at her. Luckily, it didn't burst.

"It is no simple thing to mix up our ethnicities!" Spain chastised her.

Italy remained unfazed. "Anyway, Antonio and... Lovino, it was great for you guys to help me!"

Spain ruffled Italy's hair while Romano pouted and grumbled darkly.

"God, that sub last class was _so_weird," Elena said, again without looking up.

"Gosh, yeah," Gwyn agreed. "I still can't believe I stood up to him like that."

"¿_Quien_? Who?" Spain asked.

"He said his name was Ivan Braginski, and all he did was teach us about Russia," Elena explained to the Mediterranean countries.

A sudden change came over all three of the countries. Spain's eyes widened and he gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. Romano's expression turned from anger to terror. Even Italy's sweet smile gave way to frightened, wobbly lips.

"I'm guessing you know him?" Gwyn asked dryly.

"Of course we know him! Oh, you poor _niños_, to be stuck with him for a whole class!" Spain looked at the girls sympathetically.

"You stood up to him?" Romano asked Gwyn incredulously. "How are you-a not dead?"

Gwyn shrugged.

"Veh! I would have-a gotten out of there as soon as I could!" Italy cried. "You girls are-a really brave!"

"Can you guys answer something for me?" Gwyn asked the three.

"Sure, ask away," Romano mumbled.

"Can you explain why we're having so many substitute teachers today?"

Italy laughed. "Oh, even _I_can-a answer that! See, all our bosses said that all us countries needed to-"

A little too late, Romano clapped his hand over his slightly dim brother's mouth and tackled him to the ground.

"_Idiota_! _Imbecille_!" The older Italy hissed at the younger one.

Spain smiled reassuringly at the confused, suspicious girls. "Just ignore them. You want some churros, no?" He produced three sugary churros from a container of them he'd been hiding and offered them to the girls, who accepted.

"Anyway, I'm not sure why you're having so many substitutes." The Spaniard shrugged innocently. "I think we all got hired around the same time. Perhaps the influenza knocked out all your teachers."

Gwyn shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."

"Aw... _crap_! I got all distracted by the food and forgot my Spanish homework!" Ioana, who always did her Spanish homework during lunch right before Spanish class, dropped her fork and started digging through her backpack.

Spain laughed. "I can help you with that, _no __problemo_!"

"Really, Mr. Fernandez?"

"Of course! Hey, this is easy stuff! _Me __gustan_... I like tomatoes... _me __gusta_... I like a tomato..."

Within five minutes, the green-eyed country had plowed through all of a very grateful Ioana's homework.

"_Muchas __gracias_, Antonio," Ioana giggled.

"_De __nada_," the Spaniard replied with a wink.

Meanwhile, on the floor, the Italy brothers were still brawling. Finally, they emerged, looking roughed up.

"_Stupido_," Romano muttered darkly.

"Veh... I'm sorry, Romano-I mean Lovino," Italy said glumly.

"Well, it looks like our _almuerzo _is almost over," Spain said sadly. "I'll see you girls around."

With that, all three handsome men got up and walked away.

...

"They reminded me of Coach Jones," Elena said dreamily as they packed up and began to leave.

"Yeah, they were really nice!" Ioana agreed. "Except the Italian one with the darker hair. He was kind of an ass."

"Well, I'm off to French. See you, Ioana," said Elena.

On their way to French, Elena and Gwyn were chatting when they almost bumped into an irate-looking man going in the same direction as them.

"Of all the classes," the blonde muttered. "_Of __all __the __bloody __classes_..."

**Haha, foreshadowing of epicness! And a little guest surprise there with Spain and Romano, eh? (I find it hard to write only with Veneziano... they must be a trio!) Leave any and all questions and comments in the reviews! P.S. Chapter title means "the best lunch ever" in Italian!**


	6. Oh Bollocks, It's French

Elena and Gwyn opened the door to their French class and were hardly surprised when they found a substitute teacher standing by their teacher's desk.

"Hi!" Gwyn said cheerfully by way of greeting. Elena muttered a "hi" and went to go to her desk, but then stopped and stared at the substitute along with Gwyn.

He was taking off a long, black cloak, which revealed a crisp, neat sweater-vest, a white-collared button-down shirt, and tan khaki dress pants. He was very young-looking and handsome as well, with a mop of golden hair and hard, bright green eyes. But the expression on his face was not nearly as happy and welcoming as all the other substitutes had been. He looked sour and annoyed.

The substitute turned to Gwyn and stiffly nodded to her, then went up to the board and wrote

MR. ARTHUR KIRKLAND

on the board in flowing cursive.

"Good day, girls," he said in a crisp British accent. "I suppose you're the class of French 2A?"

"Um, yeah, we are," Gwyn said. "So you're our substitute?"

"Unfortunately." Britain huffed and straightened his tie. "May I ask _why _you decided to learn the most asinine, foul and froggish language ever to be spoken on the face of this Earth?"

"Uh..." Gwyn didn't know how to respond to that.

"I already know it. I'm Canadian," Elena said dismissively.

"I see." Britain loosened his tie, suddenly feeling very hot. _How __in __the __name __of __bugger __am __I __going __to __teach __these __children __a __language __that __I __not __only __barely __know, __but _hate_?_

"Well... let's hear your names, then."

"Gwyn Sovaka."

"Elena Sima."

"Mariah Paygas."

Gwyn and Elena turned to the door. They hadn't noticed Gwyn's giggly good friend Mariah enter.

"Gwyn, Elena, Mariah... alright. Sit anywhere."

The delighted girls took their seats, hoping he would speak more so they could hear his hot accent.

"Are you British, Mr. Kirkland?" The dirty-blond-haired, blue-eyed Mariah asked.

"Indeed I am, Miss Paygas."

"Cool," Mariah giggled.

Britain was pleased. They might have been _learning _the repulsive language, but the children themselves were certainly all right. Not too elegant, perhaps, but bright.

A very small girl with light brown hair, intense blue eyes, and freckles appeared in the doorway. It was the girls' friend Megan Webbs.

"Name, please?" Britain asked, pencil poised above his clipboard.

"Megan Webbs."

"Alright. Sit down," he said absentmindedly, marking her off. Then he glanced at the clock.

"Ah, good. Enough time for a bite to eat." Britain strolled over to his bag and took out a container of some grayish-white sludge. Amazingly, he then proceeded to take out a fork and commenced _eating _the muck.

"Ah... Mr. Kirkland? What exactly... is that?" Gwyn asked, trying not to sound rude.

Elena looked up from her studying and wrinkled her nose at the sight. "Ew! What is that crap?"

Britain slammed down his fork, looking mortally offended. "How dare you, you rude little twit? This recipe was passed down from my mumsie!"

Unfortunately, Britain's outburst came just as the rest of the class began to file in through the door. Clapping their hands over their mouths with giggles leaking out, they quickly scurried to their seats.

Aside from his anger, Britain was unfazed. In fact, his anger was seeming to slowly dissipate. Then he broke out into a full-on grin. He almost looked drunk.

"Oh, Flying Mint Bunny!" He waved at empty air. Some kids turned to look where he was waving. Seeing nothing, they turned and whispered to each other confusedly. "Did you come to wish me good luck for my first day of teaching?"

He paused for a second, his mouth in a wide-open grin. He seemed to be eagerly awaiting a response from the empty air.

"Oh, that's really so nice of you! Simply marvelous! Do you think I'll do well?"

Another pause.

"Well, gee, Flying Mint Bunny! I'm not sure if I'll do _that _well, but thanks for the confidence boost!" He waved good-bye and then began half humming, half singing a little tune as the students gaped at him.

"And do I dream again, for now I find... well, all right, class." The bell rang. "Smashing! Why don't we get started, then?"

It was obvious that the students definitely were _not_going to pay as much attention to French Teacher Britain than they had to Global Teacher Russia. The guys were snickering to each other and imitating Britain's accent and antics, and the girls weren't listening to a word he was saying-they were just swooning over his ah-mazingly hot voice.

Now his expression became cold and annoyed again. "I guess now we'll be learning about _France_, won't we? Oh joy. _Hallelujah_. Boy, do I love _France_."

"Why don't you like France?" Megan asked.

Britain let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Well, to begin with..."

For the first half hour of class, Britain held the class's bemused attention with a long, angry rant about the "fobbish French frogs" and how they'd caused "boatloads of rubbish and fobbery" for the poor Brits.

"Those cheese-eating surrender monkeys!" Britain fumed at the end of it. "Honestly! And now I'm stuck teaching a class of children who actually opted to _learn _the foul tongue of France..."

"Wow. You sure don't like French people," Elena said thoughtfully.

The class burst into laughter. Even Britain's lips twitched a bit.

"No, I do not. Especially my French acquaintance... Francis Bonnefoy. But enough about me, tots. Now... to learn..." He sighed a world-weary sigh. "French."

As he gloomily began writing several infinitives on the board, Britain got an idea.

"You want to know what you can_really_use in France?" Britain faced the class and threw up his hands. "_J__'__abandonne_! I give up!"

The kids laughed.

"_Où __est __le __vin __et __le __fromage_? _C'est __la __seule __bonne __chose._" He paused. "Where's the wine and cheese? It's the only good thing around here, anyway."

More laughter, heartier and lasting longer.

"_Mon __dieu, __une __troupe __de __scouts! __Rendez-vous_! My God, a Boy Scout troop! Surrender!"

Some kids, namely Mariah, were now laughing so hard they couldn't even draw a breath.

He began writing them on the board now, happy as a schoolboy. "And here is what you tell your friends whenever my foul French acquiantance Francis Bonnefoy shows up... _Courez __pour __sauver __votre __virginité! _Run for your virginity!"

"Mr. Kirkland! You are awesome!" Gwyn giggled.

Britain bowed deeply. "Thank you, thank you." He was smiling easily now. He seemed like an entirely different person from the sour, irritated man they had met at the beginning of the class. Beneath all the professional bravado, Mr. Arthur Kirkland was actually a really fun guy.

"Oh, bollocks," Britain sighed, glancing at his watch. "It's nearly over." He was actually starting to have some fun.

"We still have fifteen minutes," Megan Webbs said.

Britain pondered this fact. Then he clapped his hands together. "Alright! For the remainder of class we shall be playing Thumbs-Up-Seven-Up."

"AWESOME!" The class yelled.

"Whoo! Seven-Up!" Elena said as she put her head down.

Too soon, the last class of the amazing day was over.

As Elena and Gwyn packed up and Ioana met them outside the door, they felt a strange feeling. Almost... magical. The day had been so incredible it almost seemed unreal. Plus, they had learned more useful things and done awesomer things than they would probably ever do in school ever again. The thought made them a little sad.

Mr. Kirkland, a.k.a. Britain, a.k.a. England, a.k.a. the awesomest French teacher ever, was packing up as well.

"Mr. Kirkland?" Gwyn asked tentatively. The blonde Brit turned to her questioningly.

"Um... I'd just like to say... that was the awesomest class ever. And if you see our other subs, tell them that they were awesome too. Even the Russian one."

"Yeah," Elena echoed. "You're amazing, Mr. Kirkland."

"All the subs were!" Ioana chirped happily.

Britain looked at the three happy, grateful little Americans and felt his eyes well up with tears. They were reminding him of his days with little America.

Britain coughed and wiped his eyes. "Th... thank you." He cleared his throat. "Thank you all... very much."

**Awww... *chokes up.* That wasn't meant to be as sentimental as it got. It just seemed appropriate. Anyway, don't be disheartened! This is not the end, people! There's a whole 'nother day! A whole bunch of new country-teachers! And a new cast of Amurrican citizens! Please review and tell me what you think of...*giggles*... French Teacher Britain/England!**


	7. Gym Class Nummer Zwei

On the next day after _that _crazy day, the students weren't quite as bored and oblivious as they had been on the previous day. Rumors had swirled throughout the school about the somewhat-scary, somewhat-silly, and VERY weird yet VERY awesome subs many of the kids had received. Everyone was abuzz about the new, ethnic teachers.

"The gym teacher? Dude, he gave us HAMBURGERS!"

"I mean, I knew our teacher was out in homeroom, but I didn't see a sub..."

"Are you kidding? Didn't you notice the dude with the red sweatshirt?"

"Oh... now that you mention it, maybe..."

"Dude, I thought that was the gym teacher!"

"Holy (obscene language), dude, the Global teacher?"

"Omigod yeah! What a creeper!"

"Did you hear what he did to Jack Smith?"

"EPIC LUNCHTIME IRL!"

"That French sub was _weird_, man..."

"Think he was on LSD or something?"

"I think he was on crack, seriously... he spent half the class petting my head and calling me 'Flying Mint Bunny...'"

Unfortunately, a certain smart, sassy, and sporty girl named Elana Seidenberg hadn't experienced the antics of _any _of the epic teachers, unlike the unusually glowing Elena Sima, who had received all of them. Fortunately, she would be the prime receiver of the next batch.

Like Elena Sima, Gwyn Sovaka, and Amy Yang had on the previous day, Elana Seidenberg had Gym class first.

"Please let it be the sub, _please _let it be the sub!" Elana prayed as she and her friends Megan Webbs and Mariah Paygas dressed for Gym.

"Didn't he, like, give the kids hamburgers?" Megan asked incredulously.

"Yeah! Gwyn told me everything!" Mariah chimed in. "I can't believe it! I hope we get him..."

As soon as the girls had wriggled into their gym sneakers, they dashed out of the door and into the gym. Luckily, they were the first ones there and luckily, there was a substitute. Unluckily, they were not greeted by the rumored all-American guy with a wide smile and glasses.

Standing before them was a very tall man who looked most displeased. He was large and muscular, with slicked-back blond hair and piercing, bright blue eyes. He wore an unbuttoned green military jacket with a black tank top underneath and green military pants tucked into tall, shiny black boots. He was, in a word, HOT. But in another word: SCARY.

He regarded the girls with an angry look. The easily rattled Mariah and tiny Megan hid behind the tall, bold Elana.

Germany nodded curtly. "I trust you _fraüleins_ are of za class of 1C freshman-sophomore? Because if you aren't, you are in za wrong class und should leave immediately."

Elana nodded coolly, but not impolitely. "Yeah, we are. Are you our sub?"

"Indeed I am. You vill address me by the name of Herr Ludvig Seitz. Names?"

"M-Mariah Paygas," Mariah said, on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Megan Webbs," the normally fearless Megan squeaked in a nervous giggle.

"Elana Seidenberg," Elana said calmly and clearly.

Unintentionally, Germany flinched.

"Eh... Seidenberg?"

"Yeah. S-E-I-"

"I know how to spell it," he huffed. "You are, eh... Jewish, _ja_?"

"Yeah, I am. Problem?" Elana crossed her arms and tilted her head.

Germany quickly shook his head and composed himself, knowing the girls were gauging his reaction. "_Nein_. No problem at all."

Elana regarded him warily, then started doing some jumps and kicks to prepare herself for the adventure unit.

"Good for you. Vorming up!" Germany pointed his pencil at her, then made a note of something on a clipboard.

"Are you German, Mr. Seitz?" Mariah asked tentatively.

The tall blonde nodded without looking at her. "Und proud of it as vell."

Germany regarded Elana as she did a few more jumping jacks.

_Hm, a Jew... bad memories. But she seems so polite und active! And vhy does she seem almost... familiar_? Elana was a big-boned girl with curly dark hair and green eyes. Who did she remind him of...?

Pretty soon, the rest of the class filed in. Unlike Britain, but much like Russia, Germany had that rare, handy gift of being able to keep a class quiet without effort. The little Americans stared up at his tall, muscular frame, mouths agape.

"All here? Good. As you may or may not know, your teacher is out today und I am your substitute. Any qvestions? _Nein_? Good. Ve shall start za day with sree laps around za gymnasium." Amidst muffled groans, the German blew his vhistle-er, whistle.

Being the strong sport she was, Elana finished near the front of the pack and seemed fresh and ready for more. Germany's approval of her went up.

"Now-push-ups! Tventy-starting now!" He blasted his whistle.

As was expected, many of the slacker-students didn't do very good push-ups. As a result, for the next fifteen minutes, Germany made it his personal business to make sure every single one of the kids was dipping so far down that each of their noses touched the ground.

The only three kids who didn't need any help were the sporty Elana, the gymnastic little Megan, and a somewhat arrogant, goofy, and loud athlete named Giovanni "G" Boccaccio, a good friend of Jack Smith's. Mariah, meanwhile, was close to tears. Germany stood over her, yelling loudly and criticizing her form.

"_Nein_! _Nein_! _Nein_!" The German roared, supporting her and pushing her down farther. "Zis vill never do! Lower! Harder!"

G snickered at her. Elana shot him a dirty look.

"Hey!" Elana said sharply, getting up and tapping Germany on the shoulder. Surprised, he released a grateful Mariah.

"Eh? Vhat, _Frauleïn_?"

"You know, she's doing the best she can," Elana said matter-of-factly. "She's just not athletic. Don't push her too hard."

The class held its breath.

Germany blinked.

Then he blew his whistle right in Elana's face.

"You shall _not _talk back to me, arrogant girl! Tventy more push-ups! Now!"

Dutifully, Elana dropped to the ground and, wincing, did twenty more of the grueling exercises. When she finished, huffing and puffing, Germany looked pleased and happily surprised.

"Zat vas very good, Elana. You vill succeed vell in life by following inztructions und vorking hard. You too, G und Megan-I noticed zat you too are very good athletes." The German scratched his head. "Odd... you are Italian, G, _ja_?"

G nodded, fist-bumping his buddy. "And proud of it, dude!"

"Eh... never mind zat. Now-find a partner und do as many sit-ups as you can in sree minutes!"

Elana paired up with Megan (the height difference was quite amusing), while Mariah paired up with an equally unathletic friend. G paired up with Megan's twin brother Eric, and Elana and Megan instantly passed an understanding that the race was on between the two groups.

"On your mark... get set... GO!" Germany shouted, punching a button on his stopwatch.

Megan and Eric, the smaller ones, went first. Megan, being six times more athletic than her twin, got almost 50 sit-ups, while her brother got just shy of 30.

Elana and G were up next, and they both knew that Germany's pale blue eyes were completely fixated on them.

"On za count of von... two... SREE!"

Elana sit-upped her strong heart out, hoping that this time, she wouldn't be asked to do more.

"Sree... two... von... STOP!"

Elana slumped to the ground, exhausted. She had gotten seventy-two.

"Megan, how much did Elana get?"

"Seventy-two," she replied in her squeaky voice.

"Und G, how about you?"

"Seventy-five!" G shouted in triumph, doing a Jersey-Shore-esque victory dance with Eric.

Elana sighed, then shook it off. She'd do better next time.

"Hm, Elana! Good for you!" Germany said, much approval evident in his gruff voice.

"Thanks, sir," Elana panted.

"Why not me?" G asked, flamboyantly pouting.

"Your response to your victory vas immature und obnoxious," Germany said sternly. "Elana handled her loss vis maturity und grace."

For the rest of the class, the students were forced into numerous pull-ups, toe-touches, trust-falls, and, oddly, instructions on how to properly throw a grenade. Throughout the whole class, the tall blond German became more and more impressed with Elana and G-who were, ironically, a Jew and an Italian, a religion and nationality that had caused Germany and his citizens quite a bit of trouble in the past.

_Perhaps I should not be so qvick to judge und hold grudges_, Germany mused thoughtfully, although he didn't show it.

At the end of class, when most of the students had left, Germany held G and Elana back and put a large hand on each of their shoulders.

"I feel ve have bonded during zis Physical Education class. Have a good day, und lock your vindows tonight."

Elana and G glanced at each other nervously, then at the German, whose visage remained cold, stony, and largely emotionless.

"U-um... thanks, sir," Elana mumbled with a small smile.

"_Ciao_," G muttered as the two quickly made their way to the locker rooms.

...

"O-kay," Elana said slowly, confused yet exhilarated, when she got back to the locker room.

"Omigosh what happened?" Megan and Mariah asked in unison.

Elana raised her eyebrows and didn't look at her two friends as she said, "Well... he said that we had bonded during the class and should lock our windows at night."

"WHAT?" Elana's two friends screeched in unison, interrupting the awed tone of the conversations in the locker room.

"I'll tell you about it in English..." Elana sighed as she finished getting dressed.

"But that's not 'til after lunch!" Megan whined as the three quickly walked out. "That's no fair, Mariah has Global with you next!"

"Don't worry," Elana assured her. "If we get that weird-ass Global sub, there's no _way _we'll be able to talk in that class."

As Elana and Mariah went on to their next class, Global, and Megan went on to Math, Elana noticed Herr Seitz leaning against a wall, scribbling on his clipboard. As the girls passed him, the German raised his head and gave Elana a small, tight, professional smile.

Although Elana didn't know the man very well, she had the feeling that she had just witnessed an incredibly rare phenomenon.

**The name of Germany's voice actor in the dub is Patrick Seitz, which sounds vaguely German, so it seemed appropriate. More proof that the human names REALLY shouldn't be used as often as they are: Himaruya SAID that we'd figure out why Germany didn't have a last name eventually, but we never did... and he still doesn't have a "last name."**

**Anyhoo, somewhat of a contrast to good ol' Gym Coach America, eh? Give me your thoughts on Elana, G, and Herr Gym Teacher Germany!**


	8. Global Again, Aru!

"E-Elana! Wait a second!"

The tall Jewish girl turned per Mariah's request. "Yeah?"

"I think we should review what we know about the weird Global sub we could potentially get. Y'know, before we get to class."

Elana's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, yeah. Good idea. Lemme see... um, he's really, really tall."

The pink-cheeked Mariah nodded vigorously. "Wears a scarf. Long trench coat."

"Silver hair."

"Purple eyes. And Gwyn said he smiled all the time."

"And he's Russian." Elana let out a long sigh. "Jeez, German for Gym and Russian for Global... that's rough." She straightened up, then began walking towards the Global classroom. "Guess we gotta take it as it comes."

She put a cautious yet steady hand on the door and opened it.

No one was there except for Emma Burns, a girl who was basically the smaller, shyer, blue-eyed, and less intense version of Elana; and Jarita Wang, a somewhat forgetful and confused yet fun, hardworking and multilingual Chinese girl.

"Hey, Elana and Mariah!" Jarita waved excitedly. "Jeez, aren't you scared?"

Elana shrugged. "Not so much scared as intrigued and... yeah, a little nervous."

"Uh, I'm scared." Mariah giggled nervously, raising her hand. "Yeah. Me. _Terrified_."

"Me too!" Emma said, her eyes widening. "Did you hear what he did to Jack?"

Jarita nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Jack told G and G told Aidan and Aidan told me! So I got it first-hand kind of!"

"Aidan S-M?" Elana asked, wrinkling her nose. Aidan S-M (short for Suzuki-Matsumoto) was a Japanese boy who looked Hawaiian and acted like he was from the Jersey shore, meaning he was tan, handsome, arrogant, and aloof. He was a good friend of both G Boccaccio and Jack Smith. Elana wasn't a huge fan of his, and neither was Mariah or Emma, and Jarita was only friends with him by association.

Suddenly, the door opened. The girls held their breaths.

"Hey, speak of the devil, Aidan!" Jarita said cheerfully, waving.

"Think we're gonna get the sub?" Mariah asked him tentatively.

Aidan shrugged. "Dunno. Don't really care. If you're just not an idiot and stay quiet and pretend like you're listening it won't matter. 'Sides, I'm not scared. It's stupid to be scared of a dumb sub." He plopped his stuff down and began playing on his iPod.

Elana stewed silently. Aidan had this way of making you feel stupid while at the same time not really saying anything so mean that you could call him out on it.

"Well, _I'm _scared," Jarita said defiantly. "I am literally gonna run away if we-"

The door opened again. All the girls looked up and so, despite himself, did Aidan.

It wasn't the Russian sub, but it wasn't Mr. Renaid either.

It was a young, handsome Asian man who looked to be in his late twenties, with long, dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail with some strands hanging out. He was dressed in a plain, Chinese-style black shirt with too-long sleeves and plain tan pants with comfy-looking slippers. He also wore a red armband with a star on it. He had a cool, laid-back demeanor and seemed friendly.

"Omigosh thank goodness!" Elana gushed.

China smiled as he walked towards his desk. "Why so relieve?" He had a very thick accent, almost pronouncing the "r" as an "l."

"We thought there was gonna be a really scary Russian sub, but we didn't get him," Mariah explained.

The Asian's eyebrows went up, but he kept smiling cheerfully. "Ah. Tall Russia-man with long scarf and coat?"

The kids nodded, still happy that the aforementioned Russian would not be their teacher.

"Him I know. Not fun. I on otha hand-much fun." He picked up a clipboard and stared out at the class. "Now, would you mind telling me your names?"

"I'm Jarita Wang!" Jarita said, waving her hand excitedly.

"Ah! So funny! Same family name as me!"

"Wow, really?" Jarita asked.

"Yeah! My name Wang Yao. Or in West-Yao Wang. You can call me China-or, Mr. Wang I mean." He brought his hand to his forehead and rolled his eyes. "I mean to say, I from China."

"Me too!" Jarita said, bouncing up and down.

"You speak Chinese?"

"Yeah!"

The two then commenced having a very long conversation in rapid Chinese.

"Oh. I neglect rest of class," China apologized when he noticed them getting antsy and impatient. "Who ah you?" He pointed at Elana Seidenburg.

"Elana Seidenburg," Elana told him.

"Pretty name. You ah... wait. I tell who is." He pointed at Aidan, then glanced briefly at his clipboard. "Aidan Suzuki-Matsumoto?"

"Dude!" Aidan exclaimed, looking up. "How did you know?"

"Only Japanese name on sheet. I know you Japanese."

"How did you know that, Mr. Wang?" Mariah asked.

China tapped his finger against his head. "All Asian have built-in radar to know what kind Asian everyone is. I tell he Japanese and Jarita Chinese."

"Can you tell if someone is Asian if they're wearing a mask?" Elana asked jokingly.

China smiled. "Of course. Put in car. If dliving suck, either Asian, Italian or old person."

Even the aloof Aidan cracked a grin at that one.

China sat down on the teacher's desk, keeping one leg tucked beneath him and letting the other dangle. "Yeah... I have Japanese friend and Korean friend. Both suck ball at driving."

The rest of the class began to file in. The Asian sub glanced at the clock, then at Elana. "I trust you-when does class start?"

"Eleven," Elana replied. "We have two more minutes."

China nodded and let the kids talk and mingle until the bell rang.

"Okay, okay. Everyone sit down," China ordered. Gradually, everyone did. China didn't possess that magical gift of being able to keep a class quiet with no effort like Russia or Germany, but he didn't seem to mind as much.

"My name Yao Wang," he introduced himself to the recently arrived kids. "You address me by Mr. Wang. Any questions?"

"Are you from China?" One kid asked tentatively.

China nodded. "I am."

"Do you like it there?" Another asked.

"Of course I do! Best country in entire Earth."

"But isn't it Communist?" Elana asked.

China nodded. "Yes, is Communist."

"Isn't Communism, like, really bad?" Aidan asked snidely.

"But is China crushed with crippling debt like America?" China shot back immediately. "Is China in middle of huge financial crisis like Greece and Italy? Oh yeah, that right-NO. China is Communist, but is doing better than most country. So HA!"

Elana, and the rest of the class, was a bit taken aback. He presented a good case, but he was so... _passionate_ about China. Elana had taken him to be a calm, hippie-like kind of guy.

"Now then-" China hopped off the desk and began to walk over to the board. "Oh-was other question? There in front-Chinese boy? Yes?"

The rest of the class began to giggle. It was Min Min. Real name: Clarence Min. If one was looking for THE nerdy Asian stereotype, Min Min was the one to point out. Everyone's go-to nerd/hacker, completely socially awkward, pimples, glasses, excessive amount of information as a response to any question and no imagination at all. Infamous catchphrase: _Actually_...

Min Min pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, took a deep breath, and began talking in that irritating, nasal voice of his. "Actually, China does have _some _debt. Everybody there is poor or _about _to become poor, and it's full of sweatshops and..."

The class's giggles grew louder, knowing that Min Min could rant about this kind of stuff forever. And he would have, too, if Mr. Wang hadn't stepped in.

"Okay, smart-ass. That enough. Should not bad-mouth own countly! And should not dislespect elder!" His accent was getting more pronounced now. Elana guessed it was because he was beginning to worry less about being judged, or something like that.

Following this short outburst, China began to write something on the board.

"Turn to page thlee hundled ninety four in textbook," the Asian ordered. "Read about Ancient China and do question one to four. Then I teach you about China, Mongols and Kublai Khan. No talking please, aru!"

The class blinked. Jarita raised her hand.

"Um, what was that last thing, Mr. Wang?"

China blushed. "Oh... I... I say no talking."

"Oh, okay." Jarita smiled cheerfully. "Thank you!"

Elana, while somewhat engrossed in reading of the antics of the ancient Chinese and the Mongols, occasionally stole glances at the calm, easygoing (but defensive of China) sub. He was eating what looked to be some sort of dried, crunchy snack out of a bag covered with Chinese characters.

Having finished the questions, Elana raised her hand.

China looked up. "Yes, Elana?"

"Uh, yeah, um... what are you eating?"

"This? Oh! Some Chinese tasty-treat. Would you like?" He offered the bag to Elana.

She shrugged. "Sure, thanks." She popped one in her mouth. It had a very odd flavor-the texture of a cheese puff that tasted like fish.

"What flavor is this?" She asked, still trying to decide whether the snack was good or bad-tasting.

"Cuttlefish," the Asian responded casually.

"Dude... what?" Aidan asked, sounding disgusted.

"Cuttlefish ball. You want?"

"No _thanks_," Aidan snorted.

China shrugged. "Suit youself."

About ten minutes later, he stood up. "Everybody ready?"

"Wait!" Jarita cried, who was scribbling furiously. "I still have one more page to go!"

China looked confused. "Jalita, sweetie... did not need to take notes. Only read and do questions."

"What? Oh no! I took notes on all four pages!"

The class burst into laughter. That was _so _Jarita. Once, the teacher had assigned the class to do notes on a chapter for homework. Jarita, misunderstanding the instructions, had instead done a three-page essay on it.

"See? This what America need! Chinese ova-achievement!" He patted an embarrassed Jarita on the head.

"Actually... oh, never mind," Jarita mumbled.

"Now... who can tell me one thing about Ancient China?" China asked, feeling a little amused at asking the question.

The class had already learned a bit about China, so lots of kids raised their hands.

"They invented porcelain?" Mariah ventured.

"Yes, also called 'china.' Anyone else?"

"Gunpowder!" Adian called out.

"Raise hand next time!" China chastised him. "But yes, gunpowder made by my countly. Anyone else?"

"Silk?" Elana asked.

"Ah, yes, silk. I have silk shirt light now, actually." The sub ran a finger along his black shirt. "I also lemember when China met Japan..."

The students looked at each other with question marks in their eyes, and China suddenly realized his blunder.

"Ah... sorry, not lemember-_lemind_. Yes. Lemind when China influence Japan."

"Ooooooh," the class droned in understanding.

"Yes, and they were very rude!" Jarita said indignantly. "The Japanese called China the place where the sun sets. And they knew that was disrespectful!"

Elana wondered if Aidan would speak up or something to defend his heritage, but he wasn't even listening. He probably wouldn't have advocated for Japan even if he _was _paying attention.

"Yes, Jalita... Japanese were very rude to Chinese. But not talking about Japan now. Talking about Mongols." He let out an involuntary shudder. "Mongols caused much tlouble for China and Asia."

The Chinese sub talked about his native country and the trials they faced with the Mongols. Elana thought the whole class was really interesting, and the sub was really fun and funny. She also thought that Jarita was a little in love. Elana didn't blame her. He was a hot, funny Asian guy. What Asian girl _wouldn't _be drooling?

"Okay. Done for today." China set down a stub of chalk and tossed his empty Chinese snack bag in the garbage.

"Already?" Mariah asked before she could help herself.

The Chinese man smiled. "Yes. You go to lunch now."

Elana, Mariah, Emma, and Jarita lingered for a bit.

"You were really awesome, Mr. Wang!" Jarita gushed.

Yao Wang, a.k.a. China, smiled again. "Thank you, Jalita. And hey, I tell you something, and you listen too." He gestured to Elana, Emma and Mariah. "When China finally buy Amelica and take over world, you can be my queen, okay? And then we will feast on cuttlefish ball evely night."

Jarita burst out laughing, and the other girls giggled. China grinned and ruffled Jarita's hair before gathering his things and walking out.

"Awww! He was so cool! Cute, too," Jarita said, giggly, as they tromped down to lunch.

"Much better than the Russian and German guys," Elana snorted.

...

Lunch was again different: not quite as big an affair as on the previous day, but this time, the menu was full of Asian delicacies.

"Oh, wow!" Elana said as she slurped some lo mein. "This is delicious!"

"Yeah! So... authentic!" Jarita agreed.

"I bet Mr. Wang had something to do with this," Mariah said wisely and correctly.

At that moment, Elana glanced towards the door. "Oh, hey! There he is now!"

The girls turned. At the entrance to the lunchroom, Mr. Wang was talking with a very short, serious-looking Asian boy.

"Mr. Wang!" Jarita cried. The Chinese turned and waved with a smile, then continued conversing.

"I wonder who that boy is who he's talking to?" Jarita asked.

"New student, I guess," Elana dismissed it.

She shouldn't have been so dismissive.

**And on that note, EL FIN. I'm sorry if I offended anyone with China's accent, but judging from my school experience, this is how Chinese people speak. (Although this was kinda excessive XD.) Anyway, what do you think of Jarita, Aidan, and of course, Global Teacher China, aru? Review please, aru!**


	9. Now For Engrish Crass

After the delicious Asian-themed lunch, Elana and Mariah met up with Jarita and Megan on their way to English.

"We didn't get the Russian dude!" Mariah gushed as the four girls ascended to the second floor. "We got this really cool Chinese guy!"

"Yeah, and he was really hot," Jarita swooned, putting her hand over his heart. "Let's see... how old do you think he was?"

"Let it go, 'Rita. You're not getting married to the guy," Elana snorted with a grin.

Megan let out an irritated gush of air. "Lucky! I got a sub for Math, but he was so weird..."

"What was he like?" Mariah questioned.

The small girl shook her head. "Some albino German guy who kept talking about how awesome he was."

The other three girls burst into laughter, earning them some strange looks from passers-by.

"I'm serious! Oh yeah, and he also had this cute little bird-thing sitting on his shoulder the whole time!"

"Was it real?" Elana asked.

"Yeah, totally! He made it fly around the classroom and stuff. And he said he hated teaching but that he was so awesome he could do anything."

"Crap, I wish we had gotten him for Math yesterday!" Elana complained. "What was his name?"

"Uh... it was really hard to pronounce. He said to just call him 'Mr. Awesomest Teacher Ever.'"

Mariah laughed. "Okay... he might be conceited, but he actually does sound pretty awesome."

Megan shrugged and grinned. "Yeah, I guess he was. Also, he didn't really make us do any work."

By this time, the girls had reached their English classroom and entered. The sight of the boy standing by the teacher's desk was almost enough to make them forget the conversation they had just been having. He certainly made them stop and stare.

It was the Asian boy Mr. Wang had been talking to in the lunchroom. Now Elana could get a better look at him. For one thing, he was short-maybe just breaking five feet, a good five inches shorter than Elana-and pretty good-looking. He had jet-black hair with long, straight bangs and tufts by his ears and was wearing a crisp white jacket with a gold collar and buttons. He also had clean white pants and shiny black boots to match. He was leaning over the teacher's desk, hands firmly grasping the edges, poring over a sheet of paper.

"Hi!" Elana called out cheerfully. The boy looked up and nodded at her curtly. "Are you a new student?"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then opened them. "Actuary, I am your substitute teacher."

Elana clapped her hand to her mouth, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Omigosh, I'm so sorry! I thought... oh, jeez, I'm sorry."

He nodded again, walking over to the whiteboard and writing something as he spoke. "Aporogy accepted. Prease, sit down."

The girls dutifully followed the order and sat down at their respective seats. The sub finished writing and went over to get a clipboard from the teacher's desk. The board now read, in small, very neat handwriting:

KIKU HONDA-SAN

"Oh! Are you Japanese, Honda-san?" Jarita asked excitedly.

Japan nodded. "Yes. Very much so. Jarita Wang?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"And you?" He pointed his pencil at Mariah.

"Mariah Paygas."

"You?"

"Megan Webbs."

"And you..."

"Elana Seidenburg," she said, still feeling embarrassed.

Japan nodded again. "_Konichiwa _to all of you. My name is Kiku Honda, as said in the West. As I am Japanese, you will addressing me as Honda-san."

The girls nodded in unison. Elana was dying to ask him how old he was. He had the appearance of someone not much older than she was, but his persona and attitude were that of an old man.

Right about then, G Boccaccio and Aidan S-M walked in, sharing a laugh that was probably about one of Aidan's ex-girlfriends.

"Excuse me! Boys!" Japan said sharply. Receiving no reaction, he grabbed a long, thin object from behind his desk and slammed it on the whiteboard.

"Prease stop being so roud and unrury in crassroom," the Japanese ordered. "Especiary you!" He pointed the same object at Aidan, who was a few inches taller than him. "Should not shame our country by acting out rike that."

Aidan snorted.

"Are you, like, student teaching or something?" G asked.

"No. I am your substitute. Now sit down."

G and Aidan dawdled for a while before slumping down in their seats. Japan took another deep breath.

"I suppose Western children will take some getting used to," he mumbled.

"So, you're from Japan, Honda-san?" Jarita asked. "How long have you been living here?"

"Well, actuary I do not rive in your country. I am just visiting here now."

"Visiting from where now?"

Everyone jumped at the sound of the annoying, nasal voice. They hadn't even noticed Min Min sitting near the back of the classroom.

Japan seemed flustered. "Ah. Um. Herro, I not seeing you over there..."

"I've been here since before you were here," Min Min said flatly.

"I see. _Gommena_-I am sorry. You are?"

"Min Min," Aidan called.

"Crarence Min?"

"Yes."

"_Arigato_... thank you. And I visiting from Japan, by the way."

"Um, hey, Honda-san?" Elana asked cautiously. "I have kind of a weird question for you."

"I may answer," Japan replied warily. "I may not. I arways say no."

"Uh... how old are you?"

The other kids secretly thanked her. They desperately wanted to know as well. He looked like he was only nineteen or twenty, maybe even younger, but he acted so much older. Almost timeless.

Japan regarded her with an unreadable expression. Finally, he replied cryptically: "Order than I rook."

"And how old do you look?" Aidan called out.

Japan pointedly did not respond. By now, more kids had flooded into the classroom.

The bell rang, and the kids simmered down.

"Herro to all of you," the Japanese said politely. "My name is Kiku Honda. I understand that in Engrish-"

Half the class started giggling.

"-you use prefix 'Mr.' to address an erder. However, in Japan this is not case. We add suffix '-san' to address teacher. So you will address me as Honda-san."

"That's kinda confusing," G complained.

"Okay. You may call me Mr. Honda if you rike."

The other half of the class started giggling.

"What you finding funny?" Japan asked obliviously.

"Nothing," Elana giggled. _His accent... he actually said "engrish!"_

"Hm. Anyway, we have a rot of work pranned for today. We be discussing..."

"C'we ask you some questions first?" G called out.

The Japanese sub seemed flustered. "I-I... I suppose so." _So unrury and bold!_

"Where in Japan did you live?" Jarita asked.

"All over prace. Mostry Tokyo. Is reary amazing city."

"Do you have any siblings?" Meghan asked.

Japan pondered this. "Hm. Some would craim to be my sibrings, but I beg differ."

The crass-er, class-giggled. Japan seized the lapse as an opportunity and began writing something on the board.

"For first part crass, we working on sentence constructing. Then we discuss text on... ah, Word War Two. I very knowredgable in this subject."

He stepped away from the board to reveal the sentence he had written: _This is a pen_.

"Okay. My friend who from Engrand tell me that this is very useful phrase in Engrish." The class cracked up again. Honda-san frowned. "I still not understanding what you raughing about. Oh well. Maybe I better off not knowing. Anyway. Who can tell me what demonstrative is in this sentence?"

None of the class knew.

"Come on, guys," Elana said good-naturedly. "Are we really saying that the guy from Japan who knows Engrish-ENGLISH as his second language speaks it better than we do?" _Oh my gosh. I just literally accidentally said "engrish." ... WTF BRAIN?_

The class giggled again, easing the uncomfortableness.

"Well, not exactry true. I never have been able to furry comprehend singurar first-person transitive verb. Is rike Chinese to me," the Japanese genius said apologetically.

Silence. Then Elana spoke up again.

"Wow. I have literally no idea what you just said."

"Ah! _Gome-_sorry. I still not very good at speak Engrish." He quickly walked over to the desk and checked the lesson plan again.

"Oh! Uh, Honda-san, that's not what I-"

"No, no, it okay. We just talk about text on Word War Two. You need read first, though."

The class silently began to read the text along with Kiku Honda-san. It was about some close-to-home topics for Elana-mostly the Holocaust, but a good part on the camps in America for Japanese Americans. She was just wondering how Honda-san would react to that when he answered the question himself.

"Huh. So strange how time heal wounds. My best friend is American. Other is German. I berieve they are here now, actuary, as substitures rike me..."

"No way! Ludwig Seitz?" Elana blurted out.

"Yes, that is correct. Ludwig-san is very good friend of mine. And my friend Arfred... very die-hard American. Deepry regrets these camps-" He tapped the paper. "I not brame him too much, though." He sighed. "Rife goes on."

"Were any of your relatives in those camps, Honda-san?" Mariah asked tentatively.

Japan stared at the ground, perhaps trying to conceal a rare show of emotion. "Yes," he said finally. "All of my reratives were in these camps."

"Oh my God!" The class said in unison. Everyone started to ask more questions, but then the substitute did something rather astonishing. He took the long, thin object that he had previously used to threaten G and Aidan and removed the covering from it, revealing it to be a traditional Japanese sword.

"Prease, do not worry. Japanese are perfectry capable of protecting ourself."

Amid the students' awed gazes, Japan sheathed the sword and carefully laid it against the wall.

"Now you do questions about article." As the students began scribbling away, he sat down at the teachers desk, casually took something that looked like a teeny computer out of his bag, and began tapping away with Japanese speed.

The questions were opinion questions-easy, but lengthy. It took the students about twenty minutes to complete it, and afterwards, they began talking amongst themselves.

Elana stared at Kiku Honda's intensely emotionless expression and blank eyes. She wondered if he was hacking into the government's secret files like Min Min had tried to do once.

"Honda-san? What are you doing on there?" Elana coughed.

Immediately, Japan slammed the computer shut and exhaled sharply. "Nothing," he replied tensely.

"Looking at hentai?" Jarita joked absentmindedly. The class burst into laughter as Jarita clapped her hands over her mouth, supremely embarrassed.

The substitute turned red as a tomato. "No," he muttered. "I was just... oh, never mind."

The bell rang, surprising everyone and relieving Japan.

"Okay. Have fun at next crass," Japan called, still seeming shaken.

Jarita sprinted to the teacher's desk to apologize, with Elana and Meghan trailing behind and Mariah waiting at the door.

"Honda-san, I am _so _sorry! I don't even know what I was thinking! It just slipped out... please don't tell our teacher!"

Japan stared at her. "I just wondering... how did you _know_?"

**ZING! Hehehe... seems like Japan has a bit of a wild side, eh? Sorry for late update... y'know, school. Tell me what you thought of Honda-san!**

**By the way, this is the ONLY case in which I'd actually use Japanese terms in America. (I'm talking to YOU, people who call Germany "Doitsu." This is an ENGLISH story, you know, where we speak ENGLISH and Germany is called GERMANY or DEUTSCHLAND by his proper German name.) I am trying to wean myself off saying "kawaii" and will NOT use it in my story.**

**Yay for random ranting! Review please!**


	10. Ah, oui oui! Eet is time for Biology!

Jarita could NOT stop freaking out.

As she, Elana, Mariah, Megan, and Emma walked all the way across the school to their final class, Biology, along with G, Min Min, and Aidan, she kept chittering away like a hyperactive squirrel about how weird it was for the seemingly perfectly controlled, cool and emotionless teacher to be watching _hentai _in class.

"I bet Mr. Wang would never do that!" She declared, hugging her Bio binder close to her chest. "Looking up _hentai_, my _God_, he seemed so _professional_, he seemed so _young_, so... oh, innocent?"

"Ja_rita_," Elana said tersely, beginning to lose her patience. "For the hundredth time, what in the world is hentai?"

Jarita waved her hand absentmindedly. "It's nothing, too gross to explain!"

"Isn't it like Japanese po-" Megan began, but Mariah and Emma shushed her.

"Ew! I agree with Jarita, I don't even want to _hear _about it!" Mariah clasped her hands over her ears.

"Me neither. Live and let live." Emma shook her head.

"Hoo boy. I sure hope we get a sub for Bio," Elana prayed. Their teacher, Mr. Bending, was generally credited as the toughest Bio teacher in the school. Sub days were amazing.

They walked in silence for a while. The Bio wing was really far away, almost a ten minutes' walk.

Elana was frowning in concentration. Something had been bugging her, but she wasn't sure what. Then Jarita hit it spot-on.

"Hey... guys, this might seem kinda weird, but... have you guys noticed anything a little... strange about the subs?"

"Well, they're all a little... different," Emma said before Elana could cut in.

"Yeah, I know, but what-"

"What she's trying to say is that there's something similarly weird about all of them," Elana finished Jarita's sentence for her.

Mariah nodded vigorously. "Yeah! I've been thinking that too!"

Megan's brow furrowed. "Yeah... yeah, you're right! Now that you say... they kind of all seem to know each other, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do!" Jarita bounced a little while she was walking. "Mr. Wang definitely knew Honda-san."

"Yeah, and my math teacher said that he and Herr Seitz knew each other really well," Megan nodded. Then she giggled. "And then he was like '_no homo_...'"

"And also, they all seem to have different ethnicities," Mariah pointed out.

"Yeah, and not only that... they're all really _passionate _about where they come from. And they act so... so..." Elana was so excited she couldn't find the word.

"Stereotypical?" Jarita suggested.

"Yeah! They all act _exactly _like Germans, or Chinese, or whatever..."

"I bet it's some sort of thing for Cultural Week," Min Min said from a distance, disrupting the girls.

Aidan nodded. "Yeah. I bet they're all fake, anyway."

G shrugged. "Nothing to get excited about."

Elana seethed as they scuttled away. "They are _not _fake," she grumbled.

"I dunno... they seem kinda... really excessive," Megan said unsurely.

"NO! They're not-"

"I don't know if they're 100% real deal, but I know they're not employed by the school-at least, not for Cultural Week." Mariah said quietly.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, if they were employed by the school, they would have taught us more. I mean, my French teacher yesterday basically just knocked France for the entire class. Second, they would have put them in their own cultural environment. Like, for example, my French teacher-he was, like, British. Why wasn't he teaching English? I mean, he didn't even _like _France. Why was a Japanese guy teaching English and not, like, Technology or something? Why wasn't Mr. Wang teaching Chinese? If it was for Cultural Week, they would have them all teaching, like, their respective subjects or whatever, or they'd all have taught different Global classes.

"And... for a third thing... they've all kind of done... weird... things. Like Honda-san looking up whatever he was looking up, and Mr. Kirkland bashing France so much yesterday... and Mr. Wang was so, like... laid-back. Eating food in class and stuff." Mariah took a deep breath, feeling a little embarrassed. "So... yeah."

It was Megan's turn to nod virgorously. "Yeah! Like my German guy... he didn't talk about Germany at all. He literally didn't teach us _any_thing. He just kinda lazed around and talked about random crap. He was even drinking beer!" She paused, then grinned. "Jeez, looking back... he really _was _awesome!"

"I don't think the teachers are fake and I don't think they're employed by the school, at least, not in that way," Elana concluded as they neared the classroom. "I _do _think there's something strange about them, and it's weird that they all know each other, and I'm gonna get to the bottom of-"

As she nonchalantly opened the door, Elana stopped speaking and stared, wide-eyed, at the incredibly hot man standing in front of her.

All of the subs had been pretty handsome, but this guy trounced them all. He had silky, wavy, blonde shoulder-length hair, dazzling aqua blue eyes, and the beginnings of a rugged-looking goatee. He was wearing a snazzy dark blue suit and a crisp red tie, and he was leaning almost seductively on the teacher's desk while carrying a stack of papers.

The sub smiled devilishly. "_Bonjour, mademoiselles_," he greeted the girls in a sexy French accent. "And _monsieurs_, as well," he greeted Aidan, Min Min, and G. "I sincerely hope zat you are of ze class 4 _ah-beh-seh_? Because eef you weren't, zat would be _such _a peety. _Mon dieu!_ Such beauty lost!"

Elana was dumbstruck. But she wasn't sure if it was in a good way due to his hotness or a bad way due to his creepiness. "Uh. Yeah. So. You're like. Our sub?"

"Zat I am, _belle fille_. I am being your, eh, Biology teachzzer for today, _oui_? Seet down, seet down~" He said in a singsong.

In order of quickness to get to their seats, from fastest to slowest: Min Min, Aidan, G, Mariah, Elana, Megan, Jarita, and Emma. The latter two seemed a little starstruck, especially Emma.

"Eh, ze school eez ordinarily so boring, _non_? But today-ah, today!-today we shall be learning ze joys of 'uman anatomy _et_ reproduction~!" He had a sort of lilting, singsong voice, seeming to make every sentence into an overly joyous little tune.

_Anatomy and reproduction? Oh God..._ Elana though, her heartbeat accelerating. Then she cracked her knuckles and leaned back in her seat. _This... is gonna be interesting. Hoo boy._

"Ah, _mon dieu_! How exzessively rude of me!" The pompous sub smacked himself on the cheek. "I zeem to have forgotten to eentroduce myself!"

Brandishing a brand-new stick of chalk, he began to write something on the chalkboard in flowing, loopy cursive...

MONSIEUR FRANCIS BONNEFOY

...which he then proceeded to decorate with artistic little spirals.

Mariah gasped and suddenly remembered something that she had thought was trivial at the time.

The advice Mr. Kirkland had given them last period on the previous day: _"_Courez pour sauver votre virginitè! _Run for your virginity! A phrase to use should you ever encounter my foul French acquaintance... Francis Bonnefoy._"

Francis Bonnefoy.

It had to be the same guy. Monsieur Bonnefoy even _looked _like someone who would piss off proper Mr. Kirkland.

She shot a glance at Megan, but she didn't seem to have noticed the connection.

"Uh... M-Mr.-I mean Monsieur Bonnefoy? Can Megan and I go to the bathroom?"

"_Oui, oui_..." Monsieur Bonnefoy mumbled.

"Good. Th-thank you!"

"W-wait! What are you-" Megan protested, but Mariah was too quick.

"Megan!" She hissed once they were safely out in the hall. "Do you remember French yesterday when Mr. Kirkland was ranting? He said something about if we ever met his French acquiantance Francis Bonnefoy that we should _run for our virginity_! And this is him!"

Megan sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's nothing to worry about. He was probably just annoyed at his French-ness."

"Meg, are you crazy? _That guy is probably a pedophilic rapist or something_!"

"No way. Besides, how could he rape us in class, or something?"

"_Be careful today, Meg!_"

"Calm _down_, Mariah."

...

"Ah... eez zis really _all_ of you?"

France gazed disappointedly at the sparse class. All the girls were beautiful, of course, but only the Japanese-Hawaiian boy and the Italian boy really looked truly handsome. He would have to pay extra attention to them to let them know~

Elana raised her hand, still her ordinary bold, cool self, as she had been all day despite all the weirdness. "I think Jack Smith is supposed to be here..."

"_Oui_, I was eenformed of 'eez absence earlier... eh, eet eez such a pity..." France sighed and proceeded to turn on the projector. "Such a handsome boy..."

The students, in particular the males, shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Now... you shall label zis peecture here, as your sheets zat you received are unlabeled-" he laid a picture of a naked male with his "parts" labeled on the projecter. "Ah, what joy! Zis eez 'onestly my favorite subject..." He laughed-giggled, really-very softly. "You zee, my punkeesh acquiantance 'oo comes from ze UK... 'e was left teaching _my _native language-French! Ah, ze language of love, truly... I cannot _fathom _why he dezpizes it so..."

"Mr. Kirkland!" Mariah blurted out. Then she ducked her head, embarrassed.

"Ah, _mademoiselle_, you met 'im, I see... so boring, _non_?" France laughed again, this time louder. It sounded creepy and sinister, very stereotypically French. "_Ahonhonhonhonhonhonhonhon..._"

"U-um... I thought he was... kinda cool..." Mariah mumbled, creeped out by the laugh.

"_Sacre bleu_! 'Ow do you find zees boring and punkeesh Eengleeshman _cool_? Ehhh, you are woefully miseenformed, leetle Mareeah..."

He "tsked" with his tongue and turned to the projector. "Eez everybody done eenjoyeeng-eh, copyeeng zis?"

The class murmured and nodded. As France turned off the projector, he winked at Emma and blew her a kiss, causing her to blush.

"_Courez pour sauver votre virginitè_!"

Mariah clapped her hands over her mouth at the outburst as the class fell silent. _I. Just. Yelled. That. Out. Loud._

Monsieur Bonnefoy slowly turned to Mariah (whose already rosy face was growing as red as the corsage pinned to the sub's front pocket), looking very uneasy.

"Eh... '_run for your virginity_?'" The class began to giggle. Mariah vigorously shook her head while Megan rolled her eyes. "I am eempressed zat you know ze language of love, Mareeah, alzough why would you say such vulgar theengs?" Then he faced the entire class, spreading his arms wide. "Virgeenity eez a _terrible _thing to try and save! All of you, you should try to lose eet! As soon as possible!"

Now the class was beginning to understand Mariah's strange advice. Especially Megan and Elana.

France glided over to Aidan and put a white-gloved hand on his shoulder, stroking it lovingly. "Just look at zis fine _jeune homme_. 'E weel surely-eh, hopefully-lose heez virginity before ze rest of you!"

"Okay... dude... can you like... stop touching me, please?" Aidan said, creeped out.

"_Mon dieu_, but why? You should eembrace ze touching! Eet eez only with ze touching zat you get... to ze love." He twirled some of his long hair around his finger. "Wheech breengs us to ze next part of our lesson..."

Mariah, Emma, and Jarita, along with most of the rest of the girls in the class, decided to cover their ears about halfway through the next discussion, during which, according to Megan and Elana, the teacher succeeded in reaching a whole new level of awkward. They merely heard little snatches, which were creepy enough by themselves.

"And so you-with zheir-and you-in zheir-and you-in zheir arms."

Jarita cautiously removed her hands from her ears, hoping the lesson was almost over.

"But personally, I prefer to-"

The hands went back up.

...

Near the end of class, something odd (well, even more odd than the rest of the class) happened. France's cell phone went off. And he actually answered.

"_Bonjour_?" He answered in a seductive voice. Then his expression turned sour. "Oh, Arzzur... for ze last time, ze children are perfectly _fine _with _moi_! Even one-Mareeah, I believe-she appreciates my own language more zan yours! And for ze last time, _au revoir_!"

He ended the call with a disdainful flip of his hair.

"Silly Arzzur... 'e is so punkeesh. 'E would be so _cute_ eef only 'e was _always_ silent..."

France glanced at the clock.

"Ah, _mon dieu_... eet is almost ovare. 'Ave a good day, cheeldren..."

The girls hightailed it out of there like a drunk Frenchman was chasing them.

"I... I don't even have any words for that..." Elana said, dumbstruck.

That pretty much summed up all the girls' moods as they hurried off to their sports and buses.

**Ahonhonhonhonhonhonhon. I am sorry for ze lateness, but alas, ze school calls me... tell me, cheeldren, what did you theenk of ze perverted, yet _belle_ Biology teachzzer, France?**


	11. ZA AWESOMEST MATT CLASS EVER!

**Ugh, jeez, sorry this is so late. I have been busy with things. Anyway, what I learned the day I posted this is if you go to a water park in Orlando, Florida, NOBODY is American.**

**Swedes... Swedes everywhere. Yeah, today was fun. Anyways, enjoy!**

_That was an awesome day, on all counts, _Megan thought as she settled down to do her homework at night. The only homework she actually had was Math, since the teacher hadn't actually taught anything and was thus forced to give them homework. Megan found herself drifting off with memories of second period and their truly awesome math teacher.

...

Since the gym was fairly close to the Math wing, Megan and her twin brother Eric were the first ones there.

Except for the weird guy at the teacher's desk, that is.

He was dressed in a snappy purple suit with a black shirt and high black boots, which he had propped up on the desk. He seemed like he was an albino of some sort-whitish gray hair and pale skin. He was frowning, pondering a large bunch of papers in his hand, but then shrugged and plopped a large mound of them on the ground.

Megan tried to sit down without distracting him, but Eric wasn't as considerate.

"Hey, man, you our sub?" He asked cheekily.

The man set his papers down with a snap. He had odd red eyes with an evil glint in them with a cocky smile to match. He looked young-around twenty, twenty-one.

"Zat I am, kid," he replied in a slightly nasal German accent.

"What's your name?" Megan asked cautiously, the German making her wary that he would be like the militaristic Gym teacher. What was with all the foreign subs?

"Eh... _icht _hard to pronounce, _ja_? You may address me as... _za awesomest teacher ever_! I am awesome! Und you should be awed to be in za presense of such an awesome person!"

He swung his feet off the desk and hopped over to the board, writing the following in a messy scrawl:

I AM THE AWESOMEST TEACHER EVER, THUS, YOU MUST ADDRESS ME SOLELY AS "HERR AWESOME!"

"_Ja_! Zat's vhat I'm talking _about_!" He tossed the marker across the room and clapped his hands together just as Megan's friends Maggie Beach and Jinki Park walked in.

"Read za board, sit down und eat your snacks!" Prussia ordered. _Oh yeah. This is gonna be SO awesome_! Then he swaggered over to the teacher's desk and popped open a can of Heineken.

Jinki, a half-Korean, half-Japanese loveable semi-moron, gaped at the sub in awe. So did Maggie, a studious and sporty girl. But it wasn't similar awe. Jinki's eyes were shining and the corners of his mouth were turned up in the beginnings of a grin, but Maggie was frowning and her mouth was gaping and the corners of her lips were turned down.

"Um... are you allowed to drink beer in school, sir?" Maggie asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Zat is Sir _Awesome _to you, little girl, und yes, I am." He took a swig, then wiped his mouth. "I AM AWESOME! Meaning, I am allowed to do _vhatever _I vant, _vhenever _I vant!"

"Dude... you are so awesome..." Jinki looked like he wanted to fall to his knees and worship the guy.

"Damn _straight_!" Prussia cackled, wiping his lips. He happened to say this just as a new bunch of students walked in.

He raised his beer to them. "_Guten tag_, _kinder_! Just have a seat und somesing to eat!"

All the kids slowly took out bagels and such and began munching. Prussia swung his feet onto the desk again, then took out a cracked iPhone and began texting after he took another swig of beer.

"All right, everyvon. I... ze awesomest teacher _ever_... am going to be your substitute for today. You should all be honored to have such an _awesome_ teacher!"

The students stopped chewing, completely unaware of how to take this. Was he trying to relate to them or something...?

"So... yeah... I kinda don't like teaching... like... at all. Vat is zis class again?"

"Uh, math..." Jinki said with an unsure laugh.

"Agh, _mein Gott_! I could be ze most awesome mattematician in ze entire vorld, you know! Unfortunately, math itself _icht_ _not _awesome, it _sucks_! So instead of being un awesome mattematician... I am just plain awesome." The German shrugged nonchalantly.

The class was silent.

"Yeah so... I vas just kinda... forced into zis... so... I guess you can all just study und talk, I guess? Or ask some qvestions to za awesome me!"

Maggie, Megan, and most of the other girls either slowly took out their textbooks or began gossiping. The boys, however, chose the second option.

"Where are you from?" Jinki blurted out.

"Prus-eh, I mean... _mein _family _icht _from a small und awesome country called Prussia. Unfortunately, zat country does not exist anymore... so I live in Germany."

Megan, who happened to be looking up at the time, noticed that he seemed a little sad and choked up.

"Oh. Well... my mom is from Japan. My dad's from Korea."

Prussia burst out laughing. "Japan? Und _Korea_?" His laugh sounded a bit like a hiss, like _Kesesesesese_! "How is zat even possible? Zhey _hate _each ozzer!"

Jinki shrugged and gave an unsure grin. "U-um, yeah... guess it is a little weird."

"Pah, enough about you... vhat did you say your name vas?"

"Jinki."

"_Chinky_?" Prussia asked incredulously, leaning forwards. "Vhat?"

The class lost it. Prussia's mouth slowly widened into a grin, while Jinki looked confused. "Ah, no. It's, ah, _Jinki_. With a 'J'."

"I sink I got zat, kid," the sub snorted, popping open another beer.

"Sir, I'm sorry to call you-"

"Ah-ah-ah." Prussia waggled his black-gloved finger at Maggie. "Sir...?"

Maggie huffed impatiently. "Sir _Awesome_..." she ground her teeth, "are you sure you're allowed to drink in school? You could get drunk!"

"Oh please, _fraulein_. I am a _German_! Not some pussy Asian! It is nearly _impossible _to get _me _drunk. Unless of course I am just drunk all za time und do not realize it." He cackled that _kesesesesese _sound again. "In any case, I believe I am definitely fully qualified to teach zis class."

Megan raised her hand.

"Pah! Enough viss za hand-raising, puny! Just call out und if zhere is too much, I vill shut you up!"

Megan tried to remember how to close her gaping jaw. "Uhhh..." She realized she actually didn't really have a question. "Um... are you like... albino?"

"Vat za heck..." He trailed off. "Vat... vat even... okay, stupid qvestion, next!"

"My sister's stupid, isn't she?" Eric called out. Megan swatted him.

Prussia "tsked" and waggled his finger. "Ah-ah-ah. You should be nice to your _schwester_, Freckles." (Eric was a chronic freckle-face.) "Hah, Puny und Freckles. Tvins, I suppose?"

They nodded, glaring at each other.

"Ah. Good pair."

"Why do you call yourself so awesome?" A smart-ass from the back asked.

Prussia blinked, then widened his eyes. Then his expression tightened as he crushed his new beer can and tossed it into the trash can.

"Zat is... stupid, you _dummkopf_. Zat is not a qvestion you _ask_. Zat is like asking za meaning of life, or... or _vhy am I here_?" He took a deep breath, then slammed his hands down on the table. "ZHERE IS NO QVESTIONING _MEIN _AWESOMENESS! UND ZAT IS FINAL!"

The class couldn't even gasp.

_Jeez_, Megan though. _This dude takes his awesomeness seriously_.

"Und do you guys know who _isn't _awesome?" Prussia sighed, twirling a pen in between black-gloved fingers. "Zis chick I know."

"Ex-girlfriend?" Eric sighed.

"Oh _heck_ no!" The teacher almost choked on his words. "No, _God_ no! How could anyvon except stupid Austria ever like her? She's a tomboy and-"

"_Who _likes her?" Maggie interrupted, leaning forward.

"No von! Vell, certainly not m-"

"No, you said stupid someone likes her..."

"Austria!"

And after he exclaimed that, Megan clearly saw his facial expressions change. First he was smiling incredulously, then he looked at the ceiling and his smile faded, as though he was trying to remember something. Then all of a sudden, his mouth and eyes opened wide and he mouthed "OH SHIT!"

"Ah! Um... _schiesse_... I have un friend... I do not know his name, but... I call him Austria."

Maggie raised her eyebrows and leaned forward. "Ah. Yeah."

"Because he is Austrian."

"Yeah."

"Und he is a prick."

The class cracked up. Prussia mentally wiped his forehead. They weren't supposed to use their country names, despite how incredibly stupid their human names were.

"Huh... so anyvay... yeah, zat chick... she's a veird von."

"_You're _calling someone weird?" Maggie mumbled.

"You are _so _much like zis chick," Prussia mused, waggling a finger at Maggie. "Feisty und no fun. She used to be kind of fun. But zhen she started getting all _girly_... You don't happen to be Hungarian, eh?"

Maggie gave him a confused look. "Um... yeah... my mom is..."

"Vell _zat _explains it..." the sub chuckled his creepy laugh. "She is Hungarian... I don't like Hungarians."

"Why not?" Maggie slammed her hand on her desk.

"Because of _her_!"

Erik nodded. "Ohhh. So she won't go out with you?"

"Zat _icht _not it, you _arschloch_! I just don't like her."

Erik nodded again, this time smiling. "Yeah, right. Suuuuure you don't."

The sub scowled. "You're lucky you're all za vay over zhere, kid, ozzervise I'd beat your ass."

For some reason, the class cracked up again. It was almost like they were on ecstasy or something.

Prussia sighed. "Okay guys, time for me to fess up... you do have some vork you vere supposed to do... you can do it for homevork if you vant, or you can do it now."

Maggie diligently set about completing the assignment, occasionally shooting death glares at the smirking sub, but she was the only one doing either. The rest of the kids chatted and goofed off, and a bunch of them were crowded around the sub's desk, peppering him with questions that he answered with snickers and stories.

Even though almost every single kid left the room with homework that night, it was totally, and awesomely, worth it.

**Twist chapter coming soon hopefully, along with a brand new story!**


	12. Seriously, what the hell is going on?

**Couple things before I start, trying not to spoil: yes, the reactions of three certain characters to another certain character may have been a little extreme. But I WANT that. YES. Also, the accents for the same certain characters might not be completely canon, but are stereotypical accents and mispronunciations associated with said countries. Also, list of the girls for reference: Elena (sour, cold genius Canadian), Elana (happy, smart Jew), Ioana (goofy Romanian), Jarita (goofy Chinese), Gwyn (down-to-Earth Pole), and Megan and Mariah (rule-following Americans).**

**...Ugh, sounds so much like a story filled with crappy OCs. GAHHHHH I HATE THIS. MY NEXT STORY WILL BE HARDCORE CHARACTERS I PROMISE MY LOVEDOVES, I PROMISE DX**

**...ALSO! I hate this but I used the human names a lot in the chapter, because I want the audience to feel like the girls. It sounds weird when suddenly Britain instead of Mr. Kirkland, y'know? Besides, you know who they are... anyways, kind of two-part chapter! And filler-ish. K. Shutting up now.**

While they were, of course, delighted by how amazing school was becoming, Elena Sima and Elana Seidenberg had become all the more suspicious by the next day, when it had been confirmed the subs had returned. Elena's businesslike solution was to call a meeting of the most affected students to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

"Okay. Chart time." Elena showed her bored but curious acquaintances a chart she had made.

"Here's what we know," Elana continued, reading from the chart. "So far, there have been twelve different subs teaching eight subjects, including lunch. The subs have been, as follows: American Coach Jones and German Herr Seitz for Gym, Canadian Mr. Williams for homeroom, Russian Mr. Braginski and Chinese Mr. Wang for Global, the Italian Srs. Vargas and Spanish Sr. Carriedo for lunch, British Mr. Kirkland for French, Japanese Honda-sensei for English, and French Monsieur Bonnefoy for Bio."

"And they've all been pretty friggin' weird." Mariah rolled her eyes.

"Right," Elana clarified. She signaled to Elena, who turned the page of her chart over.

"This shows teachers who've referenced each other in some way and their weirdness levels." Elena counted off the page. "First-Coach Jones and Mr. Williams are twins. The weirdness is-"

"I noticed that! Let me tell it!" Ioana jumped up, clapping her hands, and addressed the group with a wide grin. "Okay, so like, Coach Jones, like, didn't know Mr. Williams' name. He had to, like, read his name tag. And he didn't remember it the first time, either."

"Thank. You. Ioana." Elena hissed through gritted teeth. "Moving. On. Anyway, besides that, Coach Jones joined the game of dodgeball and gave us hamburgers."

"Which isn't _bad _per se," Elana hastily clarified. "Just... odd."

"The Italian guys and Señor Carriedo knew Mr. Braginski, and they seemed scared of him," Gwyn said, twisting her fingers around each other.

"So did Mr. Wang!" Jarita was quick to point out.

"Right," Elena nodded.

"And that guy was a _total _creeper." Ioana crossed her arms and shivered. Then she paused. "Mr. Braginski I mean. Not Mr. Wang."

"Whatever he did to Jack kept him out of school for a day, and he seemed like a goddamn psychopath," Elena continued. "I'm pretty sure whatever he did was illegal."

"Next... the Italian guys and the Spanish guy were nice, but that was one... pretty... extravagant lunch. I don't know... just seemed... weird, y'know? Plus, Mr. Carriedo... kinda like... did my homework," Ioana giggled.

"And the Italians were practically _flirting _with us!" Elena shook her head.

"Well... they _were _Italian. I mean, look at G... he's dated about half our grade," Megan pointed out.

"True." Gwyn nodded with her arms crossed.

"Moving on. Who's next?" Elena glanced at her chart.

"Mr. Kirkland!" Mariah jumped up.

"He was cool, but he was pretty trippy." Gwyn clicked her teeth. "'Flying Mint Bunny?' And for teaching French, he sure seemed to hate it."

"And he and Monsieur Bonnefoy, like, hated each other!" Mariah exclaimed.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy..." Megan shuddered, glancing uneasily at Jarita, Elana, and Mariah.

"Yeah. Him. Just... him," Elana gave a nervous laugh. "Everything about him.

"Then we have Herr Seitz..." Elana tapped her chin. "He would be pretty normal, I guess. But with the circumstances... he was just a little weird. Also, the weird thing he said to G and I."

"Right..." Mariah and Megan shared a look.

"Then we have Mr. Wang..." Elana tapped her chin again, staring at the ceiling.

"He was a little weird too," Jarita confessed. "Eating in class... super patriotic..."

"And Honda-sensei... watching weird crap and bringing an effing _sword _into school..." Megan added. "And my incredibly-awesome-and-incredibly-weird math teacher, who I _still _don't know the name of. He knew Herr Seitz."

Elana held out her hands. "What's your guys' take? Open to suggestions here."

The other six girls thought for a while.

"I honestly don't know." Elena looked at the ground. "It's definitely _something _not normal, but I don't know what it could-"

"Hey! Wait a second!" Ioana's eyes widened. "I heard there were foreign exchange students coming today! We could glean something out of them!"

As the girls got up to test Ioana's idea, Elana voiced hers. "I think it's definitely... something about countries. They were all from different countries and all _really _like whatever their country was." The other girls nodded and murmured in agreement. "That's the biggest similarity between all of them."

"I bet the government's involved, too," Elena mumbled.

Little did they know how incredibly spot-on they were.

...

The girls eventually came across a nervous-looking, unfamiliar boy sitting alone in the school lobby.

"Foreign. Get him," Elena ordered, pointing.

The girls needed no urging. The boy seemed not only vulnerable and approachable, but pretty hot. He had light brown hair just touching his shoulders and was dressed preppily in a button-down shirt and a green tie paired with khakis. As the girls got closer and he looked up, they could see he had tired, wide blue eyes.

Ioana, the social butterfly, plopped down next to him. He inched away with a jerky movement, giving her a nervous smile.

"He-hello," he said carefully. The girls couldn't detect an accent yet.

"Heyy." Ioana winked. "So what's your name? Where are you from?"

"M-me? My name, it is... Toris Laurinaitis." His blue eyes darted from girl to girl, suspicious and frightened.

"Whew! That's one hell of a name. What is it? Like, where's it from?" Ioana sidled up a little closer to him. Elena began to worry that he might have a panic attack.

"It's, ah, Lithuanian. I being from Lithuania."

"Lithuania, huh? Coolio!"

Something clicked in Elena's history-buff mind, almost exactly like when Jimmy Neutron had his mind-blast things. It went somewhat like this:

_Lithuania controlled by Russia for long time. Mr. Braginski scary Russian. Lithuanian guy really scared. Must know each other!_

"So... Lithuania? That's pretty close to Russia, right?" Elena planned her words, carefully gauging his reaction. Gwyn, Megan and Elana shot her looks of understanding.

The boy gulped and licked his lips, twisting his fingers like Gwyn often did. "Y-yes. I-I... I spent a vhile in Russia. A long vhile." He laughed once without humor. "Not being very nice over zhere."

"Wow, really? It's funny-ah-strange, I mean, because I know a Russian guy."

"O-oh, really?" He tried to smile, but the terrified eyes gave it away. "Vhat is his name being?"

"Ivan... Braginski," Elena replied with a perfect amount of suspense.

The reaction was instantaneous for the poor boy. His eyes bugged out and squeaking sounds came out of his mouth. Ioana patted his shoulder to little effect.

"You know him?" Elena asked knowingly.

"Russia... he... you are knowing him?" He whispered. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed Elena's hands. "Vhat has he done to you?"

"Not to me. Our friend," Gwyn told him, sighing. "He doesn't scare me."

His eyes darted to Gwyn. "Vhat is your name?"

Gwyn looked taken aback. "Uh, Gwyn. Gwyn Sovaka."

The Lithuanian nodded. "Polish. I knew it."

"Wait, what? How?" Ioana asked him.

"Polish... zhey are not scared of him. Not scared of Russia..." he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "Russia... is terrible."

"And you know Ivan Braginski?" Elena pushed.

"_Know _him?" He laughed again. Then his expression turned serious, dark, and cold. "He is making my life living hell for very. _Very_. Long time."

"Right. Sorry to hear that." Elena glanced at the group of girls with a smug grin.

"I am so glad to being in America now." He reverted to his nervous, sweet demeanor. "America treat me vell, very vell."

"Do you know someone by the name of, oh, Alfred Jones?" Elena asked, examining her nails.

His eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! Very good knowing him! Very good man, he is kind to me."

"I see." Elena made a note on her chart.

"Why don't you come with us?" Elana took his hand. "Come on, we'll show you around."

"Zank you, you are very kind girl. But can my friends come?"

"Of course!" Ioana exclaimed, scaring him once again.

"R-right... oi, Raivis! Eduard!"

Two other boys materialized instantly at his side, one about his height and one much shorter. The one closer in height seemed much calmer than Toris, and had Swedish-cut ash blond hair, square glasses, and curious dark blue eyes. The much shorter one seemed even more nervous than the Lithuanian, and had ruffled blond hair and scared blue eyes.

"Zhese are my good friends... Eduard from Estonia..." the one with glasses smiled. "...and Raivis from Latvia." The little one gave a weak grin.

"I don't even know what those are!" Ioana said brightly. Everyone else glared at her.

"Zhey are countries near Russia, bordering ze Baltic Sea," Eduard explained patiently, adjusting his glasses. "It's okay. I don't expecting many Americans to know about zhem."

"So, do you two know this Braginski person too?" Elena cut straight to the point.

Raivis and Eduard looked at each other, confused. Then Raivis's eyes widened, and he gaped at the girls with terror-filled eyes.

"You mean... Russia...?"

"Why are you calling him Russia?" Jarita asked, hands on her hips.

"Russian... not good..." He leaned against Toris's side. Elena worried that he actually _was _having a panic attack. Megan seemed to worry too.

"Um... is he okay?" Megan asked.

Eduard nodded with a smile, patting his smaller friend on the head. "Of course. Just bad memories is all."

"He stretched me...!" Raivis shook his head frm side to side, hugging Toris's waist. "Ahhh..."

"Wait..." Elana said slowly.

"WHAT? He stretched you too?! Tell us more!" Elena shook the tiny nation by his shoulders.

"Yes, every day almost! Very terrible times... I speaking too much alvays..."

"We can get this guy _arrested_!" Mariah smacked her palm with her fist.

All three of the trembling trio had the same instantaneous reaction: gasping, eyes bugging out, holding their hands out in front of them, and pleading _nononononononono._

"Please, no! Do not going to police!" Toris begged.

"Zhey cannot doing anysing!" Raivis wrung his shaking hands.

"Diplomatic immunity," Eduard groaned, running his hand through his hair.

All the girls shared concerned looks. Elana and Gwyn tried to calm them down, but to no avail.

"Um..." Elena debated uneasily. "Come with us. I guess."

...

"Okay. Foreign exchange students are definitely tied in with subs," Elena whispered to Elana as the trembling boys trailed behind.

The latter nodded. "And Mr. Braginski's as bad as we thought."

"Let's ask if they know anyone else," Mariah hissed. They turned around to face the trio, who looked up nervously.

"You guys do know that Mr. Braginski is teaching here, right?"

They nodded glumly. "Yes, he is teaching Global, correct?" Toris looked at the ground.

"But the other Global teacher is nice... Yao Wang? D'you know him?" Jarita questioned.

The three looked at each other and shrugged. "Yes," Toris answered. "Not vell."

"But you _do_ know him?" Elena pressed.

They nodded in unison.

"How about a German albino-looking guy?" Megan butted in.

The three laughed, which made the girls feel a little better. It was getting depressing being around what seemed like the stereotypical characters in Soviet-oppressed Latvian jokes. "Yes, of course!" Toris said with a true grin. "He is very funny man."

"So that's _three _subs you know?" Elena questioned.

"Yes," Raivis confirmed. "Oh! And ve also knowing Mr. Kirkland, and ze Japa-"

"Raivis? Vot are you saying?"

The three tensed up instantly and began whimpering. The girls turned and were shocked to see none other than Mr. Braginski appear out of nowhere from a side corridor, complete with infamous scarf and smile. With a slow, methodical gait, he began walking towards the three frozen Baltics.

The girls began to sense that something terrible was about to happen. Elana felt sick and Elena felt a little angry. What had Mr. Braginski _done _to the poor boys?

"Vot are ve saying here, you tree?" Mr. Braginski put a black-gloved hand on Raivis's head, which was about two feet lower than his own. Toris and Eduard cowered and whimpered.

Mr. Braginski laughed his creepy laugh, chilling as a Russian winter. "Silly little Latvian, ve can't be telling dese girls everyting ve know!" He pressed down harder on Raivis's head, who looked like he was about to cry.

Eduard licked his lips, his eyes darting behind his glasses. "I-I... I sink I am going to be sick..." Toris let out a cry, but Eduard had already dashed off.

The Russian "tsked" with his tongue. "Latvian vill need lesson after dis... vill Lituanian come too...?"

Toris gulped, pulling at his collar.

"You stop it, you big bully!" Gwyn stepped forward and roughly slapped Russia's hand away from Latvia's head. "Stop it! You're nothing but a bully, that's what you are! You have no right to treat these boys like that! Why don't you just leave them alone?!"

Toris's eyes and mouth opened wide. Raivis gave out a short cry. Mr. Braginski turned his head towards Gwyn very slowly. Gwyn held her ground.

"Does Miss Gvyn need a lesson as vell?" The Russian asked quietly.

"I don't think I do," she replied firmly.

The world stood still in that one moment. The tension was so thick you could cut it with an iron water pipe.

"Miss Gvyn should not disrespect a teacher..."

"Aaaaaand ze teacher shouldn't, like, disrespect a student."

The voice that threw the comeback had the strangest accent yet. It was an eclectic mix of male Eastern European and... valley-girl?

With a stride that matched the sniggering, very oddly mixed voice, a young man with perfectly parted, shoulder-length blonde hair held back with sparkly pink clips, devilish green eyes, and a preppy vest-and-button-down combo swaggered up to Mr. Braginski from behind the girls and put an arm around the Russian's tall, broad shoulders.

"Ease up, Vanya. Zhey're gonna be late to class if you keep up zis shiz." He made shoo-shoo motions with his hands, then leaned back with his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

Mr. Braginski glared at the boy for a tense second before composing himself. "Alright ten... good-bye."

"Zank you, Feliks," Lithuania gasped as soon as Russia was out of earshot.

The weird-but-cool blonde guy grinned, throwing his arm around his friend. "No problem, broski." He gestured to the girls with a jerk of his head. "Who're zese cute ladies?"

"You're not _gay_?!" Elena blurted out. The rest of the girls hissed at her in shock.

"Oh my _God_, sveetie, like, _no_." Feliks laughed. "Love me some titt-ays! But anyvay, Toris, bro, ve have to, like, get to class. You too, little-bro." He pointed to Raivis, who nodded, relieved. He waved to the girls as the three left. "See ya!"

...

"...The _hell _was that?" Gwyn asked after a few seconds.

"How is he not gay?" Elena was completely baffled. "He had _sparkly pink clips_ in his hair...!"

"How was he not _scared_?" Mariah, who was still shaking, asked.

"I guess... he was Polish... not... scared..."

And then Elena had the biggest brain-blast of all.

Could it be...?

No, that was insane.

The crazy-yet-somehow-sensible thought was interrupted by the bell. Elena dropped a loud F-bomb.

"Meet me at lunch!" She ordered. "I... it's crazy, but I think I know what's up!"

And as she and Ioana rushed to class, all she could think of was how much more and more sense the ridiculous idea was making.

**Knock knock.**

**Who's there?**

**Abrupt chapter ending.**

**Abrupt chapter ending who?**


	13. Rallying the Troops

Elena and Ioana's first class was Biology, and like Elana and Mariah when they thought that they would receive Mr. Braginski for Global, the two were apprehensive about what Elana had dubbed "the Monsieur Bonnefoy experience."

"So like, was he seriously a pedophile? Did he, like, y'know, _touch _anyone?" Ioana fluffed up her hair and dabbed on a bit of lip-gloss.

Elena's eyes were focused on the ground, as she was quite busy both concocting escape routes and working out her ridiculous theory in her mind.

"Yo, E! Talkin' to you here!"

"Whuh-huh? Oh, ah, no. I mean, yeah. He patted Dylan S-M's head or something."

Ioana let out a squeal. "I heard he's really hot!"

Elena huffed and turned to face Ioana, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Ioana-listen-to-me. That-guy-is-a-pedo-and-will-rape-you."

Ioana giggled. "Aw, c'mon E, even Elana said he was super hot!"

But when they opened the door, the teacher with a sexy goatee and flowing blond locks was MIA. Instead, sitting-no, reclining-at the teacher's desk was a muscular, dopey-looking man with longish curly brown hair and an opened button-down shirt. He was cute enough, but just seemed like a schlump. As the girls stared, he lazily opened his eyes and slowly took his feet off the desk.

"Hey," he greeted them with a half-hearted nod. "I'm Greece-Grecian. Greek. From Greece. Name's on the board. Sit down..." the bored, sleepy voice drifted off as the sub hoisted his legs back onto the desk and closed his eyes.

Elena's eyes narrowed. All the signs were supporting her outrageous theory. Fumbling of the name/mixture of the name and place, foreign, stereotypical of said foreign place, and general half-assing of the job.

The Canadian genius was about to go up and try to shake some answers out of the lazy-bones, but before she could, a huge, even more muscular man came bursting through the door like a German steam locomotive, nearly knocking Ioana to the floor, and stormed up to the Greek's desk.

"Oi! You!" The tall blond man barked in a heavy German accent. The sub's eyes flew open, then took on a pained expression. "You need to pay me back right _now_! I am sick of your _verdammnt _excuses! Pay up, Greece!"

The Greek sub stretched and yawned. "I'm real sorry, Germany, it's just... I don't have the money... maybe another day?"

"Zat's because you don't _vork_, you vorthless _arschloch_! I-"

The German's expression froze as he seemed to suddenly notice two girls-one seeming satisfied, the other supremely confused-staring at him.

"I... I..." he repeated, trailing off. A momentary look of horror crossed his face, which he then composed into a smooth, calm one.

"_Guten tag_, _kinder_," he said unsteadily, clearing his throat. "Ah-don't mind me. Mr. Karpusi and I have some... ah... issues... zat ve vill vork out later."

With that, he turned on his heels and curtly bowed to the girls before quickly departing.

Elena blinked spastically. Ioana turned this way and that, eyes darting, mouth puckered in a way that suggested she was about to exclaim "_What the firetruck?_"

Then Elena strode over to the Greek sub and put her hands on her hips. "Okay, Mr. Karpusi. What's the deal?"

The sub sighed. "Well, you see... so that guy, he lent me some cash a while ago, and I can't really..."

"No! No, not that. One: why are you subbing? Two: Why is everyone subbing? Three: Why did you call him Germany, and why did he call you Greece?"

The Greek's heavily lidded, tired green eyes opened wide. Then his mouth opened and shut. He raised his finger, then lowered it. Then he put his head to his desk and the girls heard a muffled "Shit."

Elena looked at Ioana unsurely. Now she felt bad. Sticking out a cautious hand, she awkwardly began patting him on the head.

"Um... there, there, Mr. Karpusi. It'll be okay."

The bell then chose that lovely, appropriate moment to ring, prompting a slew of kids to drag themselves into the classroom and slam their heads on their desks Greek-style.

"Sit down now." Mr. Karpusi gestured to Elena and Ioana. The corners of Elena's mouth turned downwards as she marched to her seat.

"Hey. So my name's Herakles Karpusi."

"Dude, like Hercules?" One kid yelled out from behind Elena. She winced, but the teacher seemed unfazed.

"Yeah. I guess. That's the Roman version. I'm Greek. Anyway, there's work up here." He patted a pile of papers by his desk. "Come get it."

The kids shuffled up, muttering curses under their breaths, and began grabbing the papers. Elena shot a look at the sub when she grabbed one. He swallowed audibly.

"If we don't finish, is it homework?" Ioana asked.

The sub shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."

Well, that went any chance of any students doing any work at all.

But just as the room was about to dissolve into chaos, the morning announcements came on. The students quieted down a bit-this was the time when kids were called to the office, the nurse's, etc.

"_May I have your attention please. Will the following people please report to the principal's office:_

And that's where the normally mundane announcements took a turn for the weird.

"_Alfred Jones."_

In the gym, America paused while handing out hamburgers and looked at the ceiling quizzically.

"_Arthur Kirkland_."

Britain put his fork down just as he was about to have his first bite of mucky porridge, frowning.

"_Francis Bonnefoy_."

"_Mon dieu_!" The Biology sub exclaimed in the class across from Elena and Ioana's.

"_Ivan Braginski_."

Every single student in first-period Global let out a huge sigh, while Russia's ever-present smile faded a bit.

"_Yao Wang_."

China paused mid-political-lecture, sighed and stormed out of the room.

"_Feliciano and Lovino Vargas_."

The Italian brothers put down their sauce-covered spatulas and looked at each other with question marks in their eyes.

"_Ludwig Seitz."_

"Eh?" The German muttered, dropping from the pull-up bar.

"_Kiku Honda_."

The Japanese sub turned red. "_Gommenasai_, students," he apologized as he quickly left the room.

"_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_."

Spain blinked his bleary eyes, then looked questioningly at Romano and Veneziano. The Italy brothers shrugged.

"_Gilbert Beillschmidt._"

Prussia crushed his beer can, swore loudly and stormed out, leaving a rather stunned class behind.

"_And Herakles Karpusi_."

The lazy Greek sub blinked, then sighed and stood up.

"_And will Toris Laurinaitis, Eduard von Bock, and Raivis Galante please report to the nurse's office. Thank you_."

The three Baltics looked at each other nervously, then gulped and headed out the door.

...

Back in the Biology classroom headed by the Greek, Ioana was having a _carpe diem _moment.

"Okay, listen, E," Ioana re-applied her lip gloss. "There are literally _no _real teachers in the school. Our sub's gone. No one is stopping us from figuring out what's going on once and for all. And I mean, seriously... I want to see what's causing all these hot foreign men to suddenly appear at our school. It's like that anime... _Ouran _maybe? That one Jarita always talks about? Anyhoo, bottom line, let's follow them."

Elena sighed, her eyes darting around the room. "Okay _fine_. We can go. But I want to pick up the others on the way."

Their first stop was the Math wing to pick up Elana and Gwyn.

"We had Megan's teacher! The awesome albino!" Elana sounded crushed. "Man! I really wanted to have him!"

"His name was Gilbert Beillschmidt," Gwyn tried to stifle a laugh. "I mean... wow. Like... now I know why he didn't tell Megan's class his name."

"So what's the plan?" Elana asked as they power-walked down to the Technology wing to pick up Megan.

"We're gonna get Megan, Mariah and Jarita and then go to the principal's office to see what's going on," Ioana explained. "My idea, by the way."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Huh, yeah, whatever. But do you guys think we should go pick up those three guys from earlier? I heard them get called to the nurse's office and I think they could help us. Besides, Mariah and Jarita are in French, and that's close to the nurse's. I think she's the only real teacher still here. That and the office people."

"Good idea." Gwyn nodded.

When they picked up Megan, she looked dejected.

"Honda-sensei was teaching us!" She moaned as they left. "I was looking forward to that!"

"Aw, sucks," Elana sympathized. "He really is nice, minus the hentai."

The last stop was picking up the Kirkland-less Mariah and Jarita.

"We were supposed to have Mr. Kirkland again." Mariah acted similar to Megan.

"I was excited!" Jarita complained.

"Hold on a sec," Gwyn said in a panicky tone. "Are you saying that... that there are _no _normal teachers left? The only ones here are the subs?"

"It actually looks like it. That's what Ioana said earlier, too." Elena's brow furrowed. "We had Greece as our sub." She waited for a reaction.

"A Greek guy?" Megan asked.

"No. Greece. Here's my theory, and I know it sounds crazy... but... here are the facts." She took a deep breath.

"Okay. So. All of the subs so far, excluding Coach Jones, have been foreign. And all of the teachers have been, shall we say, _very _patriotic... stereotypical, I mean. We had a huge blond German guy who acted like a Nazi... somewhat... a quiet, polite Japanese guy who watched hentai... a really loud, hamburger-loving American guy. C'mon. Could you _get _any more stereotypical?" Elena took another deep breath before sharing. "Point is, I don't think these subs are _from _the countries. I think... I think they _are _the countries."

"_What_?" Six voices asked in unison.

"Think about it. Ioana, remember the thing with Mr. Karpusi and the German guy? They called each other Greece and Germany. And _what _is going on in Europe right now? Who owes who some money?"

"Hey... yeah! Germany recently lent Greece a lot of money, and Greece never paid it back," Elana exclaimed.

"Precisely. The German guy, who I presume was Herr Seitz, was yelling at the Greek guy to _pay back the money he owed him._ And remember the Latvian, Estonian and Lithuanian guys? They kept calling Mr. Braginski _Russia_. You guys might not know this, but those three countries were annexed by Russia for a very long time, and very unhappily. Remember what Toris said? 'He is making my life living hell for _very _long time.' He _is _Lithuania. _He _was annexed by Russia. That's why those three were so scared of him. He was terrible to them."

"B-but... what the hell about the guy who stood up to him? He was Poland?" Gwyn started twisting her fingers around again.

"Yeah! He was Poland! Poland annexed Moscow at one point... oh my gosh! And think about it... British people have shitty food, which is what Mr. Kirkland was eating... it all makes sense!"

"But... how does that... even... anatomically..." Mariah stared at the ground, frowning, mouthing "What the _fuck_?"

"Well, I don't really know." Elena backpedaled. "It sounds silly."

"It sounds like an anime is what it sounds like." Jarita snorted. "Hot guys teaching stuff? With a weird, country twist?"

"That's what I said!" Ioana jumped up and clapped her hands.

"Guys. Nurse's office. Focus." Elena opened the door with grim determination.

Sitting inside were three slightly-calmer foreign exchange students and, sitting at the nurse's desk, a VERY confused-looking nurse.

"Ah! Hello to girls from earlier!" The Latvian boy waved with a smile.

"Y-yes! Very nice to coming visit us!" The Lithuanian bowed slightly.

The nurse looked slowly at the boys, then at the girls, all while narrowing her eyes. "These three are here because somebody reported them for... for... for immense fright."

Mariah tried to grin while raising her hand.

"Well..." Elana shrugged. "It's just this guy they know. He gets them nervous."

The nurse's eyebrows went up. "We-e-ell, okay then. And what did you want with them?"

"Um... we..." Elena didn't have a plan.

But then, suddenly... _deus ex machina_.

Literally.

The girls jumped as the door to the nurse's office swung open. Standing there was one of the most handsome men any of them had ever seen, like one of the subs on steroids. He was built like a gladiator, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles, and had curly brown hair with some very sexy stubble. He was dressed in a snappy white suit, and his amber eyes had a mischievious glint to them.

"_Ciao_, nursie." He winked at the flustered lady, who was quickly turning red, and tossed her a teacher's slip. "Don't-a worry a bit. I've-a got these girls covered. As-a well as your job."

"O-oh... yes... right." The hard-working nurse didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing her bag and her coat, she was out of there quicker than a retreating Italian.

The incredibly hot man strode past the gaping-mouthed girls and the hyperventilating Baltics, then sat in the nurse's chair. Swiveling around to face them, he clasped his broad-fingered hands in his lap and, frowning, declared: "I've-a been expecting you..."

**HAHAHAHAHA I SUCK I KNOW I DO. HAHAHAHAHA. YEAH. LOVE YOU GUYS. *KISSES***


	14. Saving the World

**Who's gonna force her political opinions on her readers? MEEEEEEEEEEE**

**Anyhoo, enjoy!**

The seven students and three countries stared, dumbfounded, at the mysterious hunk sitting in the nurse's disproportionately small chair.

"Let-a me see. We have-a Elena Sima, Elana Seidenburg, Mariah Paygas, Jarita Wang, Ioana von Dollen, Megan Webbs, and-a Gwyndolyn Sovaka, correct?"

"Uhhh... yeah." Elena couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"And-a also, we have-a the-a three Baltics, the-a Trembling Trio! It's-a an excellent stage-a name, you know." The man winked.

"Y-yes, sir!" The eldest Baltic replied on behalf of the three.

"Wait. Can we clear some things up, please?" Gwyn held up her hands.

"Of-a course. The floor is-a yours, Gwyndolyn."

"Gwyn. And I have a few questions. One, who the hell are you? Two, how the hell do you know us? And three, just what the hell is up with these subs?" She turned to the other girls for approval and was satisfied to see bobbing heads and murmurs of agreement.

"Well..." the man grinned devilishly. "I... am-a the great Roman Empire, the pinnacle of ancient excellence! You-a may have learned about me in-a your Global classes. I trust you have-a met my two grandsons? The-a silly Italians?"

"What... so... you guys _are _countries?" The down-to-Earth Megan was absolutely gobsmacked.

"Um... yes, ve are. M-my name is being Lithuania, former powerhouse of Eastern Europe," Lithuania confessed, looking at Elena guiltily. "I am so sorry to deceiving you."

"So sorry! So sorry!" Estonia and Latvia repeated, bowing and scraping.

"Oh, you guys! It's fine!" Elana comforted them.

"Hey, that does make sense! I told you guys!" Elena make a fist, her lips turning up into a tight grin. "That's why they're so scared of Russia! That's why everyone was so weird and stereotypical! And... and you must be the head honcho around here, Mr... Roman... Empire... sir."

"Was," Rome corrected her with a heavy sigh. "_Was _the head honcho around-a here. My-a glory has-a faded."

"Oh. Well, uh, sorry then." Elena was not a particularly comforting person.

"Ah, it's-a okay. That-a young America whipper-a snapper is-a doing an alright job, I suppose. And-a please..." He put his hand on his chest. "Call me Rome."

"Well that... certainly... clears a lot up." Mariah seemed uncomfortable.

"So what are you guys doing here, exactly?" Elana asked.

"Well, as-a I see it, it-a started out as a simple ex-a-periment so the-a countries could-a interact with the diverse students of-a America. Unfortunately..." Rome frowned. "They are-a all complete idiots like-a myself. They-a don't really under-a-stand how the teaching works, no?" He gesticulated wildly with his hands.

Elena nodded with her mouth posed like McKayla Maroney's, which pretty much summed up everyone's feelings.

"So-a you see, they are in-a mild enormous trouble right-a now. And the ten of you need to-a get them-a out of the trouble."

"What." Elena blinked.

"How?" Gwyn raised her hands.

"You-a need to convince the school officials that-a they are-a not harming you and that-a they are-a doing their jobs."

"But... that's lying," Mariah frowned. "I'm pretty sure _stretching _a kid is harming, and Megan's teacher didn't really do much of-"

"Okay. We'll do it," Elana told Rome.

"_Fantastico_!" The ancient leader clapped his hands. "I-a mean, I think their-a governments were-a supposed to-a be watching out for them... but... you-a know governments."

Elena made a "_pshhh_" sound and nodded. "C'mon, guys."

"Let's go..." Ioana took some sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on. "..._save the world_.

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH."

...

As the seven girls and three countries made their way to the principal's office across the school, where the country-teachers were being held, there was certainly no resting moment for the poor Baltics.

"So, wait. How exactly does being a country work? If there's an earthquake or something, does it hurt you?" Mariah still seemed dubious.

"Ya." Lithuania nodded. "If it being big enough. Basically, if headline say, 'Lithuania devastate by earthquake,' it mean I hurt by earthquake." He patted his chest as though he was out of breath. "But if it say 'President of Lithuania say something,' it not meaning _I _saying something."

"What happens when, like, other people visit your countries? Like other countries?" Ioana wasn't dubious; only genuinely curious.

"Um... hard to explain. Estonia...?" Lithuania looked to his smarter friend for assistance.

Estonia adjusted his glasses. "Basically, zhey just visiting ze country. Zhey come to our house as soon as zhey come, and..." He frowned suddenly. "Hold on, let me zink..."

"Shhh. Shut up now. We're at the principal's office." Elena put her fingers to her lips and crouched down. The other nine did the same, as quietly as possible, and tried to make sense out of what was going on.

...

The G8, plus China, Prussia, Spain, Romano and Greece, shifted uncomfortably in too-small chairs as the school's Board of Education and principal grilled them.

"The entire school is in chaos over you men! You should be ashamed of yourselves," a steely-haired Board member admonished them.

"We-we're awful sorry, ma'am," Canada whispered. Nobody noticed, or cared.

"You know, I believe we are being judged rather unfairly," Britain sniffed. "I for one taught my students quite well about the subject at hand."

"You can't share political views about anything _in school_! You must conform to the rules of the district! Teach according to curriculum!" The old witch shot back.

Britain rolled his eyes in spite. "I thought this was a free bloody country_._"

"Freedom comes with boundaries," the member replied tartly.

America exploded. "No! No, it doesn't! Freedom doesn't come with boundaries! Freedom comes with _a price_! We're free! If we want to get fat from super-sized sodas, we can, for God's sake!"

A collective gasp came from around the entire room-but for each party, it was for a different reason.

"Using a _religious term _in a _public school_? Are you completely insane, sir?!" The Board leader, a scrawny woman with a tremendous bust squawked.

"The hell? Since when is saying 'God' so-"

Another gasp.

"Sir! Contain yourself! This is a _public school_!"

"OH, I'M SORRY," America bellowed. "I THOUGHT THIS WAS AMERICA!"

"My goodness." Japan covered his mouth. "I have not seen him so angry since bomb of Pear Harbor."

That was the reason for the countries' gasp; America was angry. _Seriously _angry. He had been a bit ticked off at his boss and some of his subordinates lately, but this was something else.

America was standing now, right in the board leader's face, hopping mad.

The buxom leader gritted her teeth. "Sir! Sit down and allow us to talk!"

America grudgingly complied, muttering what sounded like "goddamn new-age America no damn freedom."

"Anyway. We do admit, Mr. Kirkland, sir, that some of you may have done your jobs and at least interacted with the students, but all of you were _entirely _out of line." She pointed a yardstick at the still-seething America. "You, for one: the school board prohibits allowing children to eat non-mandated teacher-originated food on school grounds. And that goes for you three as well!" She shifted her stare to the sheepish Italy brothers and their Spanish friend.

"I'm-a sorry, ma'am," Italy said quietly while staring at the floor. Spain sadly patted his _hermanito_'s shoulder. It appeared as though his little spirit had been crushed.

The Board leader took no notice, instead pointing her yardstick to Germany. "And _you_. Exercises like that are not allowed in this district."

The intimidating German stared at her incredulously. "Vhat has zis country come to?"

"And _you_-my goodness, I thought you people were more civilized over there." She glared at a supremely embarrassed and red-faced Japan. "Bringing a _weapon _onto _school building_? Are you out of your _mind_?"

The Japanese seemed confused for a moment. Then a ghost of annoyance crossed his face, only to be replaced with guilt. "Many, many aporogies, ma'am."

"And... and _this _one!" She pointed with a bony finger to the bored Frenchman. "L... _laying a finger on schoolchildren_?! You... nasty _pedophile_!"

"'Ey!" France seemed hurt. "Many bad touching I do, but zertainly not to ze cheeldren!"

"My boy Aidan says otherwise," a Japanese woman on the Board said haughtily. "He say you come close to raping him!"

France's and Britain's eyes met, and for once in their lives, they were united, against a common enemy. Crossing their arms tightly, they glared at the Board with fiery blue and piercing green eyes.

"A-and you! Comparing your dirty Communist country to our country of America! I admit, we are a _terrible_ place and I am in no way patriotic or proud to be an American, but..." She was pointing at China, but that was when it happened.

America roared.

It was the biggest, greatest, most lion-like, insane and inhuman roar of outrage anyone had ever heard. And it went on for nearly thirty seconds. Outside the room, the seven students and three lesser countries had to cover their ears.

When America stopped roaring, he pointed his own black-gloved hand at the surprised Board leader and, with blue eyes hardened in wrath, declared in a voice seething with fury:

"You. You are what is wrong with me. With America. You terrible, unpatriotic, ungrateful excuses for Americans. Get your ugly ass to North Korea or Saudi Arabia if you don't want to live here. Americans. Do _not_. Insult America." He took a deep breath. "You poisonous bitch."

And what did that unpatriotic, poisonous bitch do?

She went on as if nothing had happened. Leaving America open-mouthed in rage, and the rest open-mouthed in shock.

"Ahem. And you albino weirdo! You may be one of the worst! Drinking _beer _in school, _swearing_, and not teaching a damned thing!"

"Vhat is zis 'albino' stuff?" Prussia murmured. "Everyvon calls me zis."

"Hmph! Appears to be an idiot as well," a fat man sniffed. Prussia glared at him.

"But worst... the worst of all..." Double-D pointed her yardstick once more, this time at the tallest person in the room. "You foul... my dear son Jack..."

"Ah." Russia chuckled gently. "De annoying child. I vos being so very light vid him. So veak. Fragile. Like dead flower when I crush."

"You... are not... under a-any..."

"It is strange. You remind me of both my sister dears." Russia shuddered for a second, then composed himself. "You have such big chest, but so nasty."

The leader was speechless. Japan and Germany were the only ones able to contain their laughter. Russia seemed oblivious, but his comment and his terribly unsettling aura were beginning to break down the busty Board member.

"Helpless. Like many American. Like you when I crush your head with my own two hand."

"That will be enough, Mr. Braginski," the leader said tightly. "Now-"

At that moment, without deciding to politely warn the rest of the group, Elena chose to burst through the door with her hands on her hips and her very coldest glare on her face.

"YO! CANADIAN PERSON, WHAT UP?!" America was certainly back to his cheerful self. It figured, seeing as he had the attention span of a grand total of seven seconds.

Elena gave him a suave nod. The rest of the group slowly tiptoed in, their entrances not nearly as cool as the sole Canadian's.

"Excuse me." Elena blew on her fingernails. "I'm sorry to tell you, but it seems as though your history books are... _incorrect_."

Ioana nodded with a smug grin. "Uh-huh."

"We're just, um, some students who were in these guys' classes," Elana began. "And, um, we'd like you to know that they were absolutely _phenomenal_.

She pointed at Germany. "This guy? He got _Mariah _to do push-ups. She has _never _done a full push-up. And I know he liked me, even though I'm Jewish. So... so shut up!" Ordinarily, Elana never would have said that to a board member, but, well, this wasn't ordinary. Germany nodded to her gratefully.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" Ioana nodded her head vigorously. "And the tall dude, the Russian dude? Holy crap man, he taught us more about Russia in a _day _then we learned about the Soviet Union last year for a whole _month_!" Russia gave her a sweeter smile than usual. "And, and the Italian guys? Yeah, when like, they made us lunch, the cafeteria was cleaner than I've _ever _seen it under _your _watch." The Italy brothers blew her kisses in unison, while Spain winked. Ioana blushed unabashedly.

"And Honda-sensei! He knew more about English than anybody else in the classroom, and he's not even a native English speaker!" Jarita held out her hands in incredulity. Japan cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. "And Mr. Wang, he _totally _did his job! He taught us a whole lot about China! Oh, and that political opinion stuff is _such _B.S., by the way!" China smiled.

"And speaking of which, Mr. Kirkland was pretty cool." Mariah raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have ever known how to say 'run for your virginity' in French without him." Britain made a fist with a triumphant grin.

"And Mr. Bonnefoy was hot..." Megan began, then shook herself. "And... taught us things! About sex! Which is what we were learning! And, and Mr. Sir Awesome German Guy taught us about the _entire _War of the Austrian succession! I didn't even know what that _was _before!"

"Vhaaaaat?" Prussia gasped. Then he snorted. "Great education zystem you got here, toots. Not knowing za _Var of za Austrian Succession_?!"

"And as for our Coach Jones here..." Elena pointed at America. "He's just pointed out everything wrong with you guys. So _there_."

There was silence for a few moments. The Baltic nations tried desperately to avoid Russia's line of vision.

"Well, I-a guess that's-a that!" Italy stood up with a smile. "Actual-a student con-a-firmation? Proof enough for-a me! C'mon, guys!"

The rest of the nations then simply left, leaving the Board speechless.

"After you," Britain said courteously to Mariah, the second-to-last to leave, making the latter blush profusely.

Nobody noticed the red flash of light that emanated from the window of the principal's office after everyone except Britain and the Board members had left. Nor did they notice Britain's wicked grin as he caught up with the rest of the group to recap.

**Canada: B-but what about me?**

**Oh, we'll pay attention to you someday, Canadia. Just... just not today. **


	15. Author's Note

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the new-chapter false alarm, but I have a poll up on my profile. If you could vote on it or leave a comment on the story for a more detailed suggestion it would be great. Can't say how soon it will be up, but I'll try to get to work on it soon!**

**THE STUPID POLL MIGHT NOT BE UP YET BECAUSE STUPID SITE, IF IT ISN'T, LEAVE YOUR ANSWER IN A COMMENT AND REMEMBER TO VOTE LATER.**


	16. Only Ze Most Perfect Chvoir Vill Do

**Note: I don't actually live in Baltimore. Note also: the new cast of juniors and seniors have little-to-no idea of what's going on, and certainly don't know the teachers' secret.**

**Also: I apologize for late as hell mediocre chapter. And ridiculous amount of fanservice. But try to enjoy!**

Thanks to the hard work of seven sophomores and just a wee bit of British magic, for the next couple of weeks, the remarkably non-descript Baltimore High became nothing short of a learning playground. At first, the substitutes had circulated mostly through only the frosh-soph classes, making the juniors and seniors feel quite put out. But after the School Board left a mysterious and unexpected message over the loudspeaker notifying the few remaining teachers of a paid, mandatory vacation, the strange new subs completely infiltrated the school. The sixteen-and-seventeen-year-olds were in for one sweet surprise.

Nathan Goldberg, a hat-loving, black-wearing junior, made his way to mixed choir along with Rosa Hart, a mohawked senior with an affinity for flannel.

"Heard about those new subs?" Rosa asked Nathan, who responded with a grunt and nod.

"I hope we get that Chinese one. It seems like he has very interesting political opinions. I'd love to give him my two cents' worth," Rosa continued, starting to smile.

"I hope we get the one that gave out hamburgers," Nathan mumbled, rubbing his stomach. "Or the ones that made lunch awesome."

Rosa raised an eyebrow, then sighed as they entered the choir room. However, her annoyance turned to surprise and Nathan's indifference to interest when they heard the lovely melody coming from the piano. It was a skillful rendition of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, and it was being played by an unfamiliar person who had their back to the upperclassmen.

The two listened politely until the symphony reached its explosive finale, at which point the musician stood and turned to face the two students.

Neither Nathan nor Rosa was attracted to men, but nonetheless, both had to catch their breaths when they got an eyeful. The man had perfectly styled, wavy black hair, brilliant violet eyes half-covered by artsy glasses, and clear white skin, save for a mole on the right side of his face. He was dressed in a rather old-fashioned outfit-a deep purple overcoat and a crisp black suit with an actual jabot-and truly looked the part of an 18-century pianist.

Now Nathan and Rosa knew what the silly underclassmen had been talking about when they giggled about how "weird" the subs were.

The teacher raised his head at them a little bit, as though he was preparing to look at them in disdain. "Good day. Und you are?" He sniffed in a nasal, yet musical, German accent.

"Nate Goldberg."

"Rosalina Hart, sir."

"Mm-hmm. Very vell." He took a fountain pen out of his right breast pocket and made a note on a clipboard.

"Are you one of the foreign subs, sir?" Rosa asked as politely as she could.

"Vell, seeing as I am from Austria und a substitute teacher, I suppose I vould qualify."

"Whoa, Austria?" Nathan repeated dumbly.

The sub gave him a withering glare. "Did I stutter?"

Rosa guffawed, while Nathan gave a weak grin.

"Und just vhat is so funny?" He turned to the still-tittering Rosa and took in her appearance-all of the mohawk, unbuttoned flannel and torn jeans. He wrinkled his nose.

"You have a way with words," Rosa giggled.

Austria raised his eyebrows. "Ah, vell, zank you. I am glad to see zat you zink zis vay."

"D'you know what we're gonna be doin' today?" Nathan mumbled.

Austria gave him another disdainful glance. "Music."

Rosa opened her mouth, then shut it.

The sub turned away from them, striding off towards the violin display. "Ah, music. Ze soul's vay of communicating vis ze outside vorld."

"You play, I presume?" Rosa asked as she put down her stuff.

"I believe ze answer is obvious," the diehard pianist sniffed. "I play nearly everysing, but nozing can really trump ze grand piano."

At that, he strode regally back over to his favored instrument and began a lovely rendition of Christmas/Sarajevo, but he had hardly started before a student stumbled in and blurted out "You our sub?"

Austria's lips pressed together in a thin line. Then he took a deep breath and gave the student a gaze that could kill an army of petunias.

"Vhat does it _look _like, you schnitzel-brain? Does it look like I am your normal teacher?" He exhaled sharply. "Never, ever ever _ever _interrupt a symphony of mine ever again."

The kid gave a low whistle, then instantly shushed the group of curious, late-arriving students who had followed behind him. The minutes before class started were devoid of their usual lively chatter as the juniors and seniors listened politely to the Austrian's musical melody.

Rosa was particularly intrigued. The sub seemed like a true man of the arts, and a European at that. She only wished he were female, and her age. But one couldn't have everything, eh?

Austria didn't finish his choice yuletime symphony until after the bell had rang, at which point he stood and swiveled to face the class. Who collectively did a double take upon seeing his perfectly groomed hotness.

He gave a curt nod. "_Guten tag_. My name is Roderich Edelreich, und I vill be your substitute chvoir assistant for today. Zheir vill be no qvestions. Now are zhere any qvestions?"

Some stupid kid raised his hand. "Are you German?"

Austria's purple eyes flashed and he flamboyantly put his hands on his hips. "Ex_cuse _me? Am I _German_? I should certainly _hope _not! I am a proud Austrian, zank you very much, not some crude German _dummkopf_." He raised his eyebrows. "Und I trust zat quite a few of you have ze German blood..."

He gave a feminine sigh and strutted over to the desk. After scanning a clipboard, he clapped his hands together and grinned.

"Excellent. Zese instructions are ridiculous. It zeems I have free reign to make you do as I please." He accentuated the last four words with pointed nods.

"You!" He pointed at Rosa. "Und you!" He pointed at Nate. "Und... you!" His gaze fell upon a slacker, a junior named Lucas Armstrong. "Starting vis... eh... ze girl...? You are a girl, yes?" Rosa, used to such things, nodded. "Alright. Sing your note of preference. Zhen vhen I point at you und you, join in. No qvestions."

Rosa, slightly overwhelmed, began to sing a note in her high soprano. The sub closed his eyes, seeming to savor it, and then waved his hand at Nate, who joined in with his baritone.

Then Lucas made some sort of sound that might have been a note but nobody could have been sure because before he had the chance to lengthen it, the sub screamed "HALT!"

Then he pointed his conductor's baton at the surprised-looking Lucas. "Zat vas so bad zat I cannot even begin to find ze vords for how incredibly shitty zat vas."

Lucas turned red. "U-uh... sorry sir."

Austria huffed. "I shall now express _mein _supreme disgust through music." And with that, he walked with his fabulous gait over to the piano and began yet another symphony-Chopin.

It lasted for seven minutes. Then the sub stood up, seeming refreshed, and walked over to Lucas. "I believe zat I have gotten _mein _point across."

"Um. Yeah. Um, sure." Lucas shuffled his feet. "So should I leave, or...?"

"_Nein_! Stay zhere! You vill sing zis note until it is _perfect_!"

Poor little Lucas stood there for fifteen minutes. Every time he opened his mouth, the teacher would lash out at him with venom, sometimes even_ before_ he sang a note.

"Vhat are you going to do vis zat stupid oval shape?" Austria snickered. "You must make un perfect circle! _Ja_!" One second later... "_Nein nein nein nein nein_!"

After he was done lambasting Lucas, Austria decided to harass another student, this time an extremely shy pigtailed girl named Maureen. He tried to go easy on her, but, you know, he was Austria.

After she had sung for about fifteen seconds, Austria pressed his delicate fingers to his forehead and exhaled.

"Sveetie... I... I simply cannot hear a vord you are trying to say. I... I can't even..."

Maureen's face was a heart-wrenching combination of ashamed and starstruck. Austria was still rambling when she blinked and her head seemed to clear. Then she belted out a dynamic, forceful rendition of _The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond _in a flawless Scottish accent. (She wasn't actually Scottish.)

"_Oh, ye'll take th' high road and I'll take th' low road/And I'll be in Scotlan' afore ye!/Fir me an' my true love will ne-er meet again/On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond_!"

Austria was stunned. His mouth hung in a perfect "O" as Maureen blushed, but stood her ground.

"_Mein Gott_," he whispered. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"You. Ve save you." He sent her off to sit at the far end of the row of chairs. "You, sing again!" He waved his conductor's stick at Maureen. "Vhen she reaches ze second verse, you join in, sveetie, und sing from ze top." Rosa wrinkled her nose at the cutesy, feminine nickname, but nodded and hummed to prepare her voice.

"Alright. Und _ein... zwei... drei... vier_!"

Maureen faltered a bit at first, but at seeing the sub's blazing glare she quickly straightened up and sang as clearly as the Austrian waters of Lake Sameranger. **(Look it up!)** Rosa joined in, her soprano even higher than Maureen's, and finished with an excellent bang.

Austria nodded appreciatively. "Vork on ze accent, _fraülein_, but ozzervise, very good." He then turned to Nate and Lucas. "Are you two ready to not suck?"

"Uh..." the boys looked at each other, then nodded.

"Good. Lucas, you join in on ze sird verse, and Nazzan, you on the fourz."

"With the accent?" Lucas asked stupidly.

Austria gave him a withering glare. "Vhat. Do. You. _Sink_?"

Lucas, with his mouth gaping slightly, nodded.

"_Verdammt arschloch_..." Austria muttered darkly. Then he raised his baton. "_Ein-zwei-drei-vier_!"

With a slight hiccup on Lucas's part when he almost forgot to join in, the harmonious version of the Scottish song of mourning sounded as creamy as yellow frosting on an Austrian pastry.

At the end, there was a short silence. With his lips pursed, Austria slowly ascended to Lucas's seat and clipped him across the ear with his baton.

"Please stop being such an _idiot_," he hissed. Lucas nodded, looking ready to grovel.

The handsome sub then glanced at the clock. "Ah. It zeems ve are out of ze time. Have a nice day, everyvon..." He retired to his piano and began experimenting with the keys.

As Nate, Maureen, and Rosa passed, he offered them a curt nod and a rare grin. Maureen squealed and Rosa tittered.

"If I was gonna go gay for one guy, it'd be him," Nate commented in between sips of smuggled-in _Monster_.

"Well, that is one man I might just go straight for," Rosa retorted as they hurried off to second period.


	17. 수학, Mäth, andм атемат ика

**Product placement, beeyotch. Also, I'm sorry I didn't get to Switzerland or Romania this time. Next time, bros!**

Unfortunately for students who wanted to become smart things like accountants or other things that actually involved math, all the Math subs were turning out to be the silliest and most off-topic substitute teachers out of everyone. With Prussia setting an example for the sophomores and stupid freshmen, the Math subs for the juniors' and seniors' Calculus classes seemed to be attempting to surpass his awesomeness.

It was a valiant effort. But come on. He's _Prussia_.

**Period 1.**

Two rather tall seniors named Isaac and Evan trudged down the hall to Calculus. Same old, same old. They were woefully unprepared for the magic which was about to overtake them.

"Hear that?" Isaac asked suddenly, turning down his music.

"Hear what?" Evan grunted, squinting so as to listen better. (He was dropped as a child.)

"Is that... can you hear that music? Coming from Calc?" Isaac quickened his pace and opened the door to their Calculus room. And at the sight, all that could leave his mouth was "Uhhh... what?"

The music, an unintelligible tune with lyrics reminiscent of _Gangnam Style_, was blaring from a sleek Mac laptop poised on the teacher's desk. The usually immaculate desk was also now cluttered with empty Starbucks cups, half-eaten bags of chips and pretzels, and various types of emulator controllers. Sitting crosswise at the chair with bandage-wrapped feet propped up on its arms and oversized headphones covering his ears, was a short Asian kid, who couldn't have been a day older than sixteen, screaming furiously at his video game in some foreign language.

It took him about five minutes to notice the dumbfounded seniors, and when he did, he simply held up his finger and continued yelling. But, respectfully, he switched to heavily-accented English.

"Dammit... Mario, you mothafucka! Get in da pipe! _Now_! God _dammit_! NO!"

At that, he chucked the controller across the room, took off his headphones in disdain and shook out his mess of dark hair.

"God _damn _dat game," he complained. "Anyway, so hello an' all dat. My name Im Yong Soo, from Korea, and yo subsitute!"

"North or South?" Evan asked instinctively. Isaac facepalmed.

Im Yong Soo let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Wha' do you think, dum-dum? I from South Korea. South Korea is _best _Korea!"

"How old are you?" Isaac asked incredulously. "Are you really our sub?"

"Of course I am sub! Why not? I am very good at teach math. All Korean good at teach math." He tapped something on his computer and the music shut off.

"Do you know _Gangnam Style_?" Evan asked stupidly.

"Do I KNOW _Gangnam Style._ Jesus Christ, how many time yo mama drop you?" Korea "tsked" and hopped off the chair, touching the ground very lightly. He pulled out his iPhone and tapped away on it as he scrawled

PROF. IM YONG SOO

on the whiteboard in sloppy, barely legible English.

"Dat prove it." He smacked the board triumphantly, then brandished his chalk and continued to write, sighing dramatically again. "Afta this I teach Computer Science. You in computer science? If not you should be. Is _best _class."

"Mr.-ah-Professor, how old are you, exactly?" Isaac asked again.

The young Asian waggled his finger at the senior, who was probably at least two physical years older than him. "Rude, rude, rude. No ask age, little American." With that, he flounced back to his desk and commenced snacking on Cheetos.

As this was a _senior_ math class, only about half the class showed up, and late at that. But, unusually, there was no talking or texting. All eyes were fixated on the sub, who had gone back to his video games. It appeared as though he was playing _Portal_, although he took it very seriously indeed.

"God damn you little cute robots! You gotta shoot me up da ass all da time, da-ze? Da nerve! I kick yo ass wit yo own friend! HAH! See how you like _dat_!"

He glanced at the clock, then at the open-mouthed students. "Give me five, ten minute. Got to finish dis level."

It only took him two minutes, actually. For all his complaining, Professor Im Yong Soo was pretty good at gaming.

"God damn GLaDOS," he grumbled, hopping off the chair and slouching over to the blackboard. "Anyway. My name Im Yong Soo, and I yo teacher for today." As he began to sketch some dubiously-difficult looking equations on the board, Korea began talking half to himself, half to the students who weren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"America children so dumb today," he sighed. "Not like Korea. We go to school from six 'til ten, then straight to army!"

"You go to the army when you're ten?"

The chalk screeched as Korea's arm fell. After about ten seconds of tense silence, the young Asian turned and looked at Evan with an expression that suggested he had just bit into a spoonful of rotten _kimchi_.

"No, you idiot. We go school from six _in da morning _until ten _at night_. Then college, then army."

Letting out a world-weary sigh, the professor continued to peck away at the board with his chalk.

"I hear this is _senior _class? So stupid... I know potential of children. You can do _any_thing if given enough..." He smiled evilly. "..._motivation_."

At last, he stepped away from the board to reveal a calculus equation employing both chemistry and physics stretching two feet high and six feet long.

The professor glanced at his watch, then at the board. "You have twenty minute to finish problem. Afta that... I see what happen." He put his headphones, which had previously been hanging around his neck, back on his ears and proceeded to doze to the comforting tunes of K-pop. Then, trying to act nonchalant, he took a small handgun out of his backpack and laid it on his desk.

Twenty minutes of frantic calculator rape and steadily increasing hysteria later, Korea lazily hit the "pause" button on his computer, let his headphones fall around his neck, and slowly went around the room glancing piercingly at the sweating students' sloppy, last-minute scribbles.

The Asian wore a serious, disapproving face as he returned to the front of the class, but was only able to keep up the façade for about half a second before collapsing into giggles.

"Hey, none of you even come close. But you know, it okay. This America, not Korea. You always be behind in education and above in power." He then took out a shopping bag and set it on the teacher's already-crowded desk. "Here, help yoselves."

First period Calc was, to put in it math terms, a proportion. The fear and confusion felt in the first half-hour was directly proportional to the calm, delicious atmosphere felt in the next hour as the students munched on snacks and nodded and laughed wordlessly as South Korea ranted about the latest Korean drama, his issues with _Portal 2_'s advanced maps, and about how Japan was a complete loser who had copied everything from him.

Nobody but Isaac found it odd, however, how the young professor tended to refer to Japan as though it were a person rather than a country.

And since Isaac had the rest of the day pretty much free, he decided to investigate.

**Period 2.**

Unfortunately, the next period taking place in Isaac's classroom was a sophomore-junior level Trigonometry class, and he felt a bit like a lanky pine in a coniferous forest. Also unfortunately, the students began to file in much earlier than the teacher Isaac had wanted to see.

Most of the kids simply gave Isaac weird glances, then sat down and turned up their music. One annoying little kid with the ends of her hair dip-dyed green, however, seemed to be more interested in Isaac than even the mild buzz of the other students about which type of weird substitute they'd get.

"What're _you _doing here?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.

Even though Isaac was a good two feet taller than her, he felt like taking a step back at her tone.

"Uh... you know, just, uh... taking a quiz."

She gave him a condescending grin. "You _do _know the teacher isn't here, right?"

"Well, uh... I figured I could just, uh, y'know, talk to the sub, maybe..."

"Oooh! The sub! I hope he's Swedish! Don't you hope he's Swedish? Swedish men are so AH-MAZING even if they're all gay!"

Isaac wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Just then, the bell rang, and the kid scampered back to her seat. Isaac recognized her as one of the kids from Anime Club and remembered seeing her hanging around his friend Rosa. Her name was Sasha or Sarah or something Russian-Jewishy like that.

The bell had rung five minutes ago, but no teacher had appeared. Isaac glanced at the clock, then at the door. It was almost eleven; class started at 10:55.

After another two minutes, the door finally opened with a dramatic _whoosh_, and it was the perfect entrance for the man that swaggered inside.

He was tall and blonde, with a mass of unruly hair upon which was perched a little black hat. His outfit both contrasted and exemplified his slightly douchey appearance-a long black coat with red cuffs and collar paired with black gloves and boots-a too-serious look for a silly face, but a look that appealed to a mass (female) audience.

"I'm not late, am I?" He twisted around to look at the clock. "Only two miness."

Nobody felt like correcting him.

"Anyway-time for de math!"

At that moment, Isaac became acutely aware of a strange, high-pitched squealing noise coming from the front of the room. Surely it couldn't be coming from a pers-

Wait. It _was _coming from a person. It was coming from that tiny girl who had debated with him not half a minute before.

The man paused in what he was writing on the board (which read MATHIAS KÖH-and then trailed off) and turned slowly, raising his eyebrows at the hyperventilating child.

"Iss... iss she alright, den?" He cautiously asked the class at large, lips beginning to twitch into a grin.

The girl suddenly nodded vigorously. The teacher regarded her warily, shrugged, and completed the writing of his name in an almost illegible scrawl:

MATHIAS KÖHLER

"My name iss Mathias Köhler," he proclaimed, then mumbled something that sounded like "..._but I liked Andersen Densen beytter._" He then cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get one heavily accented syllable out, the tiny girl with the dip-dyed hair proceeded to emit a loud shriek.

"YOU'RE _DEN_-"

"Eeeeeyyyy, sweetie, why don' we have nice liddle talk outside claseroom, eh?" Mr. Köhler chuckled nervously as he swept the girl out of the room.

The students began to strain to hear what he would tell her, but the teacher's voice was so obnoxiously loud that they easily heard every bit of the ensuing conversation, although didn't understand a word of it.

...

"How did you _know_?!" Denmark demanded of the tiny weeaboo in a voice that was attempting and failing to remain calm and quiet.

"Because you're like my favorite! Aside from Sweden and Finland and Doitsu-"

"Doitsu?" He wrinkled his nose.

The bespectacled girl rolled her eyes, huffing impatiently. "Well, duh, Germany! But anyway you're so hot! And you're like my _fav_orite!" She then sighed dreamily and "melted" into a puddle on the floor. "C-can I... can I glomp you?"

Denmark exhaled loudly (well, everything he did was loud, actually) and pulled the girl up by her elbows. He felt bad all of a sudden, like he was deceiving her. He was also supremely confused as to how exactly she knew who he was.

"Hey, eh, what's your name, kid?"

"Uhm... Sophie. Sophie Poore."

"Okey, Sophie. I will leyt you give me hug now."

It took Denmark a full two minutes after the initial glomp to wrench the child off him, and by that time, he was feeling _incredibly _guilty.

"Eh, Sophie, I have oter question."

She beamed up at him with puppy eyes and chipmunk cheeks. "Huh?"

"How do you know I am country?"

She giggled-cackled, really-and tweaked his nose before scampering back inside the classroom.

Denmark blinked spastically. Then he shrugged, took a can of beer out of his coat, chugged it, wiped his lips, and swaggered back inside.

...

"Wait-you mean tell me each you don' have own layptop?"

Isaac shook his head woefully. "We don't have a big enough budget."

"Whaaaaat?" Denmark drew back incredulously. "No _way_! I need have talk wit America... weyll then, I guess we cayn't Skype wit my gay friend. But neyvermind! I have oter idea!"

"We could go outside," one hopeful student suggested.

"No, shut up. Only listen _my _ideas. _I _am teacher." He put his hand over his eyes and muttered to himself in Danish. Just as the students were getting uneasy, the Dane's droopy blue eyes lit up.

"I know! I have idea! Relaytes to maths ass well!" He rubbed his hands together. "Where is school kitchen?"

"Down the hall," Isaac answered as he continued taking notes on the teacher's many oddities.

"Sweeyt." The sub grinned evilly. "Haff you guys eyver heard off _Portal_?"

...

The tall, muscular blonde nation (see: hunk) led the students like a flock of curious ducklings down to the school kitchen.

"Okey!" Denmark shouted as soon as the last duckling was through the door. "Today! We wiyll be mayking _cayke_!"

There was a single beat of silence before a huge cheer went up. Denmark started doling out recipes, ingredients, partners and advice.

As the seemingly-carefree teacher dashed from bowl to bowl, stirring, whipping, pouring and tasting, Isaac noticed something about him. He paid lots of attention to his work, like he really wanted to do a good job. Isaac had assumed the teacher was lazy.

"Hey," Isaac heard someone snicker. "Is it true all Swedish men are gay and weak?"

"_Ja_, iss true," Denmark laughed back obliviously, not looking up from the egg yolk he was separating. "But you do realisse I am Danish, _ja_?"

"Then is it true you get drunk all the time?" Isaac winced and Sophie fumed at the student taking advantage of the teacher's niceness. However, the insult seemed to fly over Denmark's head, higher than a Dutchman on pot.

"_Ja_, off course. But we do hold liquor weyll!" He chuckled and went back to pouring batter.

After all the cakes were finally put into the oven, the students' jubilant moods quickly sank into despair at realizing that the cakes would never be done before the end of class.

"Ah, yes... we do have leetle problem on our hands, don' we." He sighed. Even his sighs were loud. "Teyll you what. You remaymber which cayke iss yours, and you come back at eynd of day. _Ja_?"

"_Ja_!" Sophie chirped, who had attached herself to the teacher's leg as soon as her hastily prepared cake was put in the oven.

"_Ja_," the rest of the class giggled in unison.

"_God_," Denmark replied just as the bell rang. "Haff fun! Tayke care! Don' forget cake!"

After even Isaac had left, that tiny little Sophie was _still _clinging to Denmark and was showing no signs of letting go anytime that day.

The Dane sighed. "_Min kære_, do I need to geyt me axe?"

All he got in response was a satisfied sigh. Denmark shrugged, submitted, then limped over to the door.

**Period 3.**

There was no math class (and therefore, no subs) during period three. (A.k.a., the author was lazy.)

**Period 4.**

As Isaac entered his Math classroom for the third time this day, he was so tired from Gym that he barely registered the sub sitting at the now-clean desk this go around. That is, until he spoke.

"_Dobriy den, _my child. _Dabro pazhalavat._"

Isaac froze, as did the three students entering the classroom, at the quiet, fearsome Russian accent that had greeted him.

This. Was the legend.

Complete with scarf, violet eyes, and deceptively round and kind face, Mr. Ivan Braginski was Isaac's final Math sub-and possibly his final teacher _ever_.

Russia's smile grew wider as he tilted his head. "I speak in Russian. Is my native tongue. Do you know vot I say?"

Wordlessly, Isaac shook his head.

"I say 'Good day, my child. Welcome.'" He laughed. "Is good practice for vhen my country take over vorld. Ha ha. I make joke, is funny." Isaac tried to laugh, but only managed a scared squeak.

"A-a-are you M-Mr. Braginski, sir?" A girl from the doorway asked.

The legend nodded and laughed. "Look at dis! In country for month, already I am famous. Sit, children, sit."

Without a second thought, every student did so, even the troublemakers. A fearful respect for the teacher who seemed to silently bypass corporal punishment laws floated densely through the room.

Utter silence persisted until the bell's harsh ring pierced the air. Mr. Braginski calmly got up, his immense height terrifying the students even more, and began to pass out several papers.

"Finish dis, and I will let you have de fun times for rest of class."

Isaac was so busy working on his notes of the teacher that he didn't even realize a large, ominous shadow looming over him until his notebook was snatched out of his hands.

The senior's heart stopped, then resumed beating at a thousand beats per minute as Russia began reading the notes Isaac had jotted down about him. Isaac crossed himself and began going through every prayer he knew.

The teacher was quiet for a second. The class was frozen.

Then Mr. Braginski sighed. He opened his mouth-

-then closed it and went back to the teacher's desk.

"Please to work on de assignment, child. Not to writing notes now."

Isaac quickly gave thanks to his gods and busily got to work on the assignment. It was pretty standard Pre-Calc, so it wasn't hard. After he finished, he stared at the teacher.

He was just sitting there at the desk, thoughtfully twirling a pencil in his fingers. He was calm and smiling, but Isaac was still terrified.

"Vot are you being staring at, child? I am not to doing anyting important."

Isaac was amazed that he was able to talk while his heart was most assuredly lodged in his throat. "I... I was just, uh... wondering..." _F*ck it. _"Did you really do that... thing... to Jack Smith?"

Russia kept twirling the pencil without looking up. He laughed softly. "Ah, yes. I vill tell you, I vos being of the provoked. He vos making de jokes about my country. Is very bad. So, I stretch him." He dropped the pencil and mimed a "stretching" motion with his hands. "I do it to liddle Latvian, too. Is good for growing."

Okay, maybe he wasn't completely... evil, Isaac thought. Just completely, utterly insane.

Isaac waited for a few minutes so everyone could finish before engaging the psychologically-impaired teacher in conversation again.

"So... what's it like in Russia?"

The teacher smiled, sighing again. "It is very cold, and very vast, and people hate each oter quietly. Nobody smile in Russia, you know dat? Is weak to smile. So in America I smile."

Isaac felt a bit bad for the teacher. "Do you have family here or something?"

"No, no family here. My sisters both living in Europe."

"You have sisters?" A rather talkative girl named Eliza asked. "Older or younger?"

His smile faltered a bit. "O-one older, one younger."

"Oh, wow! That's really cool. I wouldn't expect you to, y'know, have family, I guess!"

Although he wasn't as vocal, Isaac was surprised too. He saw the teacher as a lonely hermit.

"One older, one younger," Mr. Braginski repeated with a shaky sigh. "My older one is Irina, in Ukraine. She very nice, but is buttery face." The class laughed. Isaac noticed the teacher's cheerful disposition begin to falter. "Younger is Natalia, in Belarus. She very pretty, but very mean. And dey are both very veird." His lower lip trembled. "So veird... so veird..." He put his hands over his eyes and moaned. "So veeeird..."

The class stared at each other, now truly horrified. Isaac thought quickly, then went over to the teacher's bag and found him a half-full bottle of vodka.

"Ahhh, _spasiba_, child." Isaac's eyes nearly popped through their glasses as the teacher downed the bottle in three gulps. "It is just... my sisters are so... strange, now."

"Well, it can't be that bad," Eliza said uneasily.

"Vell... vell, Ukraine is not being dat bad, I guess. She is good fun and very nice. But is crybaby, vhich is veak. Bela... she is... so scary. She break into my room at night and ask me to marry her." He shuddered. Isaac uneasily patted his back. Russia shook his head. "I am glad we are not to living togeter anymo-"

Just then, there was a very loud knocking on the door. The teacher froze, and for the first time, _he _looked scared.

"_Big broder! Big broder! Come outside! I vant to seeeeeee youuuuu..."_

"I am of de hiding!" Russia whispered as he ran to the closet.

Shortly afterwards, the doorknob fell off the door and a very beautiful and very angry-looking blonde woman barged in.

"Vhere is my big broder?" She snapped at Isaac. "I know he is here! Ve are of de getting engaged today!"

"He, uh... he just left! He said he needed to go to... uh... Sam's Club." The nearest Sam's Club was over 50 miles away.

"Oh. Vell den. Tank you, child." The woman then turned on her heel and left. A full minute later, the teacher emerged from the closet, looking very shaken.

He now had Isaac's full pity. Nobody should have to deal with a sister like that, no matter _how _hot she was.

"Ah... tank you so much. I vos being so much of vorried."

"No problem," Isaac grinned as the bell dramatically rang.

**Long as hell! Hope y'all're happy. SO MUCH SEXY IN THIS CHAPTER MAH GAWD.**


	18. Arte und Pistolen

As Rosa and Nathan walked to their second-block class, they were having a heated and colorful conversation about what sort of ethnicity the next sub would be for each of them-Nathan was going to Studio Photography, and Rosa was going to Drawing and Painting. Afterwards, they both had Design and Architecture.

"I tell you, if it isn't a Middle Eastern guy for D&P I'll eat my hat! All these guys have been European so far... not that I'm complaining... but we need some equality, people!" Rosa's voice reached a fever pitch as she held her hands out in indignation. "Oh, and I bet it's French for Photography. Definitely French, and _totally _Greek for D&A."

"Uh... why?" Was all Nathan could respond.

"Well, the French in_ven_ted moviemaking, y'know! Aren't you guys doing a unit on that? Obviously if we had an _Aus_trian for Choir... well, that makes sense, right?"

"Uh... sure?"

"Yeah! So if we had a guy from a very _mu_sical country for choir, it means we've got to have a Middle Eastern guy for Drawing and Painting, 'cause French is already going to Photography and the Middle East is known for some _amazing _artists. And Greek for Dez and Arch... well, now, that's more obvious than a cosplayer in an elevator full of businessmen!"

Chuckling at her joke, Rosa bid goodbye to a befuddled Nathan and turned the corner for Drawing and Painting.

...

Her satisfied smile turned almost immediately to a borderline-angry gasp when she saw the very white, very blonde and VERY European-looking sub sitting at the strangely clean teacher's desk.

The disappontingly Caucasian man looked up with a start at the sound of Rosa's anguish. His piercing green eyes bored judgingly into her, and if Rosa had been anything less than a strong, independent lesbian who didn't need no man, she would have let out a whimper and bowed to his gaze.

"_Bonjour_," he said shortly.

"Good morning," Rosa responded with a tight-lipped grin. She walked stiffly to her chair and had just begun organizing her utensils when the sub spoke again.

"You are Rosalina Hart, _ja_?"

"Rosa," Rosa replied as a reflex. The use of her full name didn't usually bother her that much, actually, but this guy was ticking her off. His air of superiority rivaled that of Herr Edelstein's, and his gaze was beginning to make even her crumble. "How did you know that, sir?"

He waved her a piece of paper emblazoned with hand-drawn portraits of everyone in the class. "_Icht _a seating chart."

"Oh. Huh."

_What a poser_, Rosa thought as she glared at him. He was mixing German and French. Maybe he was some stupid American or Australian, even, who was embarrassed to be seen amongst all the European subs.

But, then again, he didn't _look_ very American at all... or like the kind of person who got embarrassed easily. His white-blond hair was cut in an edgy, gender-neutral bob, and it was covered with a very sexy white beret. It really did take a European to properly pull off a beret. He sat at the teacher's chair so stiffly that Rosa wondered if he still had the hanger in his olive-green army jacket.

"Excuse me, sir?" Rosa asked forcefully. The man responded with a withering gaze and a "_Oui_?"

"What's your nationality, sir?"

But before the man could answer, a group of three younger girls stumbled into the room, nearly collapsing in giggles.

"Omigod he's hot!" One squealed, prompting the other two to hastily "shush" her and cackle even louder. Rosa turned up her nose, but the sub looked, oddly, slightly pleased.

"Alaynah... Beatrice... and Camerina?" He guessed correctly. The girls squealed their "yeses" and quickly scampered to their seats. Rosa rolled her eyes. The Sisters ABC, as the collective student body referred to them, were three girls-Ali, African-American; Bea, Asian; and Cami, Mexican-who hadn't quite grown out of the "annoying weeaboo" phase. In other words, every other phrase that came out of their mouths was either "NIPPON DAISUKI" or "KAWAII DESU," they were obsessed with Pocky and sushi, and discussed _Ouran High School Host Club _and _Inuyasha _incessantly.

"What's your name?" Bea, the quietest, asked.

He gestured to the chalkboard, which was squeaky-clean except for an obviously European name written in blocky capital letters:

BASCH ZWINGLI

"That's so, so, cool, my God," Cami, the smallest, said in a daze. "Where's it from?"

"It's Swiss," he said shortly before turning to Rosa and nodding.

_Oh, that makes sense_, Rosa thought with a mental blush. The Swiss had four national languages: French, Italian, German... and that other one she could never remember.

Switzerland, huh... what did you call a Swiss person, anyway? For the Spanish it was Spaniard, for Britain a Brit... was it just a Swiss for Switzerland?

"So are you... a Swiss?" Rosa asked awkwardly.

Switzerland nodded, giving her a look that suggested he thought she was suffering from a case of extreme idiocy.

"Hey, it's just a question."

"Yes, I know." He paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. I treat everyone vis equal contempt."

"I see..." Rosa said slowly. "So, is that what you're called? A Swiss?"

He nodded, then lowered his head.

He certainly was great company. Terrific personality. And Rosa had noticed an outline in his coat pocket that looked suspiciously gun-like.

Soon, the bell rang, and Rosa knew that she was about to have a great chance to pick this teacher apart. Aside from her and the Sisters ABC, the entire class consisted of several quiet geniuses, a couple of annoying hipsters, two male semi-weeaboos who mostly kept to themselves, and Rosa's friend Amelia, who was usually too absorbed in her work to say or do anything.

Phase one: complete that damned "Starry Night" project. As Rosa worked, she shot glances at the admittedly handsome, albeit rather stout and sour, Swiss sub. He appeared to be working rather hard at something Rosa couldn't quite see, but from the way he was moving his hands, it looked like he was sketching a picture.

After a while, he started to become a bit antsy. It started when he got a text on his cell phone, frowning deeper and deeper as he read through the message. Soon after, he began texting nonstop and swearing under his breath. Several times, Rosa noticed his hand twitch towards his oddly-shaped pocket. She snuck a peek at his face. He didn't look much angrier than normal, but judging by the veins bulging in his neck and forehead, he was royally pissed off. She was just about to ask him if everything was alright when Sister "A" beat her to it.

"What's wrong, Mr. Zingly?" She giggled. Rosa clenched her fist but said nothing.

"Oh-what? Oh, n-nothing." His visibly grinding teeth, however, told a different story.

Switzerland was just about to fire off another angry text when a harsh, metallic ringing sound blared through the classroom. The teacher didn't even seem fazed as he strode over to the telephone and began talking quietly in rapid German. Although Rosa could only understand minimal amounts of the harsh language, it sounded as though he was having a rather civil argument.

Rosa decided it was high time to act. After "accidentally" managing to hurl her pencil directly at the teacher's desk and spontaneously developing some sort of visual ailment that impaired her from finding the yellow pencil in the middle of the completely white desk, she was finally able to get a good look at what the Swiss had been sketching.

"Awwww!" Rosa cooed before she could stop herself. It was a terribly adorable drawing of an adorable little blonde girl wearing an adorable pink ruffled dress playing with several adorable bunnies and three adorable goats.

She glanced up at the hard-faced, German-spewing sub, then back at the drawing, then at him, then at the drawing. The drawing was signed,"Basch Zwingli," all right.

_Does... not... compute_. Rosa grabbed her pencil just in time for the sub to hang up the phone in an even worse mood than before. Rosa was about to duck back to her seat when she had a better idea. "Better idea" meaning, apparently, to be a pawn in one of the most awkward situations ever situated ever.

"That's an adorable drawing," Rosa told Switzerland as he returned.

The sub's green eyes widened. "Don't look at zat!" He ripped a poster off the wall and slapped it on top of the bunnies. Then, regaining an ounce of composure: "It's _private_."

Rosa raised her eyebrows with a coy grin and was about to fire off a witty retort when the door flew open with more force than the Vikings had used to conquer England.

And who was it standing there? None other than Rosa's thin, reedy choir sub, Roderich Edelstein.

Without missing a beat (or note, more appropriately), Austria raised a white-gloved finger, pointed it directly at the Swiss, and spat: "_Vhat _did you just call me?"

"I called you _ein Übergewicht Schwuchtel_-vhich, I do believe, is an understatement." Mr. Zwingli coldly replied, equally on cue.

Even studious Amelia was hooked just by those two lines. The hatred and disgust radiating from both of the subs rivaled that of Serbia and Austria during World War One, and Rosa felt almost scared. Sure, the men looked the parts of skinny, scrawny, borderline-homosexual Europeans, but Rosa had the strange feeling that both were exponentially more powerful than they came across as.

"_Verdammte Scheißkerl_, I'll break your gay-ass Sviss neck," Austria snarled, advancing on Switzerland with his fist raised and clenched.

"I'd like to see you try-you don't have zat _barbarian _of a vife to help you out," Switzerland hissed, drawing a .45 GAP Glock pistol out of his pocket.

"Sirs, I'm going to have to ask that the two of you calm down," Rosa said uneasily, lightly touching her blond sub's shoulder. He shook her hand off and shot her a look so demeaning and condescending that all of Rosa's liberal, use-your-words-to-fight ideas flew out the window.

"HEY. YOU TWO ARE ACTING LIKE FUCKING CHILDREN," she bellowed, causing the advancing subs to freeze in their tracks. "Now let's just calm the _hell _down and start acting our ages here. Mr. Zwingli..." She gave him a taste of his own medicine. "Herr Edelstein..." The Austrian coughed and adjusted his jabot. "...have I made myself clear?"

"Euh, _ja_. Zank you, Rosalina," Austria replied quickly.

"_Oui_, Rosa. _Grazie_." Switzerland nodded quietly, sheathing his weapon.

"Then it's settled. Please, no more swearing. Or catfights." "Catfights" reminded Rosa of the Sisters ABC, who had been, in a very annoying manner, giggling and whispering away during the whole ordeal.

"And _you _three! For the love of God, shut up already!" The girls gave her offended glares, but a well-timed fingersnap from Austria got them silent.

Austria then turned to Switzerland with a sheepish expression, his cheeks beginning to color. Switzerland coughed and nodded, his entire face already reminiscent of a raspberry.

Rosa sat down, highly confused, then glanced at the clock. The revelation that class would be ending in five minutes was a surprising and sad one. However, a bit of sun poked through that gloomy cloud when the red-faced Swiss sub beckoned her to his side.

"_Fille_, I need to talk to you."

"You already are, sir."

"Um, _ja_... about zat little... incident, earlier." He cleared his throat. "I vas, of course, supremely humiliated vhen you intervened, and I vish you could have left vell enough alone."

"Sir, that wasn't 'well enough.' You two were entirely out of order, and I felt that some discipline was needed." Rosa had never been the type to back down to _any _type of authority, no matter how much trouble she got in. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, sir." She paused. "But I _would _like to know just what happened there."

The sub struggled for words. "Eh... he vas, eh... an old acquaintance of mine, who I don't get along vis vell at all... ve got to texting, to arguing... eh, you know how it goes... anyvay, I called him somesing razer derogatory, and here ve are." Mr. Zwingli's voice had maintained a fairly gruff and monotonous tone throughout the class, but now it began to crack a bit, and his accent became more pronounced.

Switzerland cleared his throat and adjusted his beret. "I vill be seeing you, _frauleïn_."

Rosa nodded. "It was nice to meet you, sir." But before she left, she paused and turned. Mr. Zwingli looked up with a frown.

"Um, that drawing... was that, ah..."

He almost seemed to smile, just for a second. "My younger sister."

"Oh. Um. Right. _Au revoir_, sir."

"_Lebewohl._"

...

_That _guy had a sister _that _cute, that he drew pictures _that _adorable for? What was this world coming to?

"It's official," Rosa told a wide-eyed Nathan as they met each other outside Design and Architecture. "Nothing can surprise me anymore. Nothing. Absolutely nothing!"

Nathan blinked, trying to think up a witty retort, but all he could come up with was: "Uh... I think I'm gonna surprise you."

**To SandyBardicCharcoalOwl: I'M SORRY. IT JUST HAPPENED. I SWEAR, NEXT TIME, I SWEAR MY DEAR!**

**To MisstiqueRose: Thanks for your input, Aussie-bro!**

**To everyone else: Thanks for your continued support and attention. I hope y'all like this, as Switzy was much requested, and I hope I didn't screw this up. Peace!**


	19. The Wonders of Photography and Design

**Note: Nathan's solo chapter takes place at the same time as Rosa and Switzy's, after Austria's. Also note: Isaac's chapter took place on the same day.**

After saying goodbye to Rosa, Nathan turned a corner and into the photography room. It wasn't a darkroom (just a classroom with fancy equipment), and he could see no one inside, so he (wrongly) assumed he was alone. Luckily, as Nathan wasn't a pothead, he did not immediately pull out a J and start smoking a joint. He simply plunked his bag and jacket down on a table, grabbed a camera and reserved a computer, and began to load Photoshop.

One could only imagine the amount of fear the normally lethargic Nathan felt when a very cold, glove-covered hand touched the back of his neck. His ear-piercing, unmanly shriek and the three-foot jump out of his seat, however, might have provided any onlookers with a small idea.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a sleek, calm male voice apologized behind him. Judging by the overpronunciation of the "Oh" and the rolling of the R's, this was definitely a foreigner. "Did I startle you?"

Nathan's sweat hadn't even _begun_ to cool. "Fu... yes," he laughed without humor as he turned-then fell silent.

The man somewhat resembled Herr Edelstein, but at the same time, he seemed so different. Almost... softer. His clothes were also formal and hinted at older designs, but this man's style seemed much more carefree and easygoing. He wore a rather large scarlet trench coat with a million little pockets and buckles which probably served no real purpose other than to add flair-a far cry from the Austrian's prim, proper overcoat and jabot. His outfit was accented by whimsical black-and-white striped cuffs, black gloves and boots, a haphazardly-tied belt and a tiny, whimsical hat perched on the side of his head. And in place of the choir teacher's perfectly styled raven hair, this sub had shaggy locks in strawberry blond.

He looked almost like the choir teacher's calmer, messier brother. His demeanor and accent were still obviously European, but they were a much more pleasant version, and he had a very friendly tone.

"I'm very sorry," the man said again. His hair covered his eyes, but his expression seemed sincere. "I called, but you didn't hear."

Nathan pointed to his earbuds, then grinned. The guy seemed cool enough. "I'm Nate Goldberg."

"Nate..." the teacher pursed his lips as he ran a gloved finger down the clipboard. "Ah! Yes, here ve go. You're here!" He checked off Nathan's name with a grin.

"So, uh, what's your name?"

"Oh, me?" The teacher suddenly seemed very interested in his clipboard. "I'm... Vlad Țepeș. From Romania." He seemed a little amused, which confused Nathan.

"Oh, cool. Romania, huh?"

"Yes, I-"

Before Romania could complete his thought, the door opened and a tiny, loud sophomore named Ioana von Dollen walked in.

"New sub!" She declared inconsequentially, clapping her hands. "I'm Ioana; I'm here."

"Ah, yes! Ioana... zat is a pretty name. Lovely spelling."

"Why, thank you!" Ioana giggled. "It's Romanian."

"Ah, really? Is zat so?" The fellow Romanian chuckled softly. "_Ce mai faci_?"

"Um. Um. I... _sunt bine. Foarte bine_."

"_Foarte bine_! Very good!" The sub laughed, even though the answer wasn't precisely what the question had asked. Nathan was already getting a good feeling from him, and wondered hopefully if he'd give out food.

Just then, Ioana's slightly taller, very handsome twin, Nik, walked in. Unlike his incredibly expressive sister, Nik always kept his emotions to a bare minimum, save for his eternal hint of a smile.

"Hey, sub."

"Hey yourself. Your name, if you please, sir?"

"Nik von Dollen. I'm her brother." Nik's smile widened as he pointed teasingly at Ioana, who giggled and swatted his hand away.

"Ah, very vell. Anuzzer Romanian. I vas not avare ve vere zis numerous." He chuckled again as the bell rang.

"Settle down, now, children," he said pleasantly. It took a while, but eventually the students' buzz simmered down and they focused on the teacher, unabashedly staring.

"Good morning, children. My name is Mr. Țepeș, from Romania. Today, ve vill be learning some fun zings about Photoshop. Please, get into groups of two or sree."

The electrified Ioana dragged over a girl named Jarita and the two immediately began whispering and giggling to each other. Nik took one look at them, shook his head, and asked to be Nathan's partner.

"No. You can't be my partner. I hate you. Go away."

Nik grinned as he pulled up a chair. "C'mon, Nate... you're... you're breakin' my heart."

Nathan turned the corners of his mouth down comically. "God. Fine, prick."

The two had a strong bromance, despite the fact that Nik was a handsome, popular sophomore and Nathan was a lazy fringe junior. Both were amongst the slowest and weakest on the track team, and through failure they had bonded.

"Now, please choose ze person in your group vis... eh... a clearer face. No freckles, please," Romania commanded.

Nathan's nickname freshman year had been "Pepperoni Pizza," so he told the unblemished Nik to strike a pose.

"Please stand vis your back against ze vall, perfectly still, like zis." Using Ioana as a very lucky example, Romania pressed her straight against the wall with her head pointing slightly down, her heels together and her arms glued to her sides.

"Now, your partner vill take your picture. Make sure you get ze top half," Romania instructed.

Nathan snapped a picture. "This okay?"

"Zoom in a little bit more." Romania waited as Nathan followed his command. "_Foarte bine_. Perfect."

"That means _very good_," Nik whispered loudly to Nathan.

"Think I got that, twinkle-toes," Nathan hissed back, equally loudly.

"Be nice," the teacher chided gently. "Now, ve vill upload ze pictures, and have some fun in Photoshop. You vill be making your friends into monsters, yes?"

Nik nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Aww yeah. Hey Nate, I'm gonna be a monster."

"You already are, baby," Nathan retorted as he began bleaching Nik's olive skin using computer magic.

"Very good, Nate. Now vhat are you trying to do, exactly?"

Nathan, once again, hadn't noticed the teacher materialize at his side and let out a small yelp. "Ahhhh... um. I dunno, like..."

"Oooh, oooh. You should make me a vampire," Nik nodded, smiling widely.

"You already are one, pale-ass!" Ioana yelled at him from across the room.

Romania smiled. "Vell, here. You vill vant to emphasize ze cheekbones, like zis." The teacher darkened the area around Nik's already-prominent Slavic cheekbones, making it look like he was leering. Then he created dark bags under and around Nik's eyes, making them look old and sunken.

"Play vis zat," the teacher winked. Nathan changed Nik's green eyes to red and darkened the atmosphere around him, and pretty soon Ioana's twin looked more like a Lestat than a Nikolai.

"Very good... very good..." the teacher murmured, then burst into laughter at Jarita and Ioana's.

"Here, I vill put zis on ze screen." Nik and Nathan burst into laughter, as did the rest of the class. Ioana had stretched Jarita's mouth out and blended it with her hair, as well as making one eye comically larger than the other. To top it all off, there was a small chicken floating in the air near her left ear, unattached to anything and completely unrelated to the project at hand.

Jarita drummed her fingers on the desk, looking highly unamused. The teacher put a hand on her shoulder, leaning down (a little too closely) to comfort her.

"Ah, don't vorry. Everybody has zose days, eh? Here, I vill show you von I made of myself." A picture appeared on the projector screen-just a webcam photo of the teacher sitting at a desk, smiling. "Zis is for comparison. Now, vhat I did vis it-" Another photo appeared, heavily edited and very creepy. The Romanian's skin had turned almost translucent, and shadows appeared all around his glowing red eyes and sunken cheeks. The lighting in the room had darkened, his fingernails and ears had subtly turned pointy, and gleaming fangs protruded from his mouth. As a finishing touch, a mirror in the background was now subtly highlighted, indicating a lack of reflection.

While the girls were cooing and the boys (see: tech geeks excluding Nik) were peppering the teacher with questions as to what software he used, Nathan noticed something a trifle odd.

Nathan recognized the tools the teacher had used to edit the picture, but they weren't color-_changing_ tools, like what Nate had used on Nik's eyes.

They were only color-_enhancing_ tools.

As Nathan looked more closely at the first picture, he happened upon the unsettling revelation that the red eyes and fangs that the teacher sported in the second picture weren't absent in the first picture-the mellow lighting and healthy skin tone made them almost unnoticeable, but they were still there. Furthermore, the mirror from the second picture appeared in the first picture as well... but only the computer was reflected.

Nathan snuck a glance at the teacher, trying to confirm whether or not his eyes were actually scarlet, but unfortunately, he couldn't get a good look. Even more unfortunately, Romania noticed him staring.

"Eh, did you need somesing, Nate?"

"Uh..." Nathan's mind raced. "Yeah, actually. I'm having trouble with the blend tool."

"Ah, I see. Let me help." Nathan turned back to his computer. He noticed Nik walking toward him in the faint reflection from the screen.

Suddenly, the teacher's hand was on his shoulder again. Nathan whirled around. The teacher had been standing next to Nik the whole time, but he hadn't been reflected in the computer screen...

"Vhat seems to be ze problem?" The teacher smiled. And sure enough, there was at least one prominent fang showing in the gleaming grin.

Nathan blinked spastically. "Uh... this, uh, Dodge tool won't work. Or, um, at least it didn't for me!"

Romania leaned in closer to grab the mouse, brushing his shaggy hair away from his face to see better. Nathan scooted back his chair a little-the teacher's eyes were, indeed, pure crimson.

"Vell, it seems to vork fine now. You try it!"

"Oh, h-hey... whaddya know. Thanks!"

The teacher grinned again, and Nate couldn't help but notice the fang.

Throughout the rest of the class, Nathan kept a close eye on that teacher. He seemed pretty harmless, actually, but Nate was wary of the attention he was paying to Ioana.

"Did your mama ever tell you ze tale of Ileana Cosânzeana?" Romania asked Ioana. She shook her head dreamily.

"What's that?" Nik asked.

"Tch-tch-tch! And you call yourself Romanian. Ileana is only ze most beautiful princess in all ze fairy-tales of Romania. In some stories, she is kidnapped by ze _zmeu_ and must be rescued by a handsome prince."

"What's a _zmeu_?" Nathan wondered.

"Oh!" Romania brightened. "Only ze manifestation of all evil in ze vorld; an ansromophic humanoid vis ze power to spit fire and perform terrible feats of magic. Sometimes he appears as a flame in ze form of a man, or as an ogre or demon. He lives in ze dark vorld below our own, covered vis people vis rat's faces, and has a desire to lock up and marry beautiful young girls." He cast a catty glance at Ioana, who still appeared to be in a trancelike state. Nik, Nate and everyone else in the class, however, were quite horrified at this point.

Romania went on: "It is nosing, however, compared to ze horrors of ze Bay-Tree Maiden. Such a tragic tale of trickery and false love..."

Thankfully, before Romania could terrify the students any further, the bell rang.

"Have a nice day!" The teacher called out happily. As Romania was distracted, Nate snapped a picture of him and Ioana speaking.

Outside the classroom, it took Nate a full five minutes to summon the courage to look at the photograph. When he finally did, his knees turned to jelly and he smacked his head on the wall in the process of falling down.

Ioana may as well have been talking to herself, as the teacher had not appeared in Nate's photograph. There was only an eerie outline of dead pixels where Romania should have been.

Just then, an exceptionally giggly Ioana rushed out of the classroom, nearly tripping over Nate's feet. Gulping, Nate tried to call after her, but his voice didn't work.

He took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes, and got to his feet. When he opened them, Romania was, once again, standing directly in front of him without giving any sort of warning to signal his arrival.

Nathan gave out a yell that was more like a squeak and fell down once more. As he struggled to make his legs work, the teacher knelt down and picked up the tell-tale picture. He silently studied the haunting photo as Nathan desperately tried to blurt out an explanation.

"Hmmm. A picture of me, eh? Too bad. For some reason, pictures of me never seem to come out zat vell..." Laughing quietly, the teacher brushed his fingers lightly over the picture. "Try it now," he ordered, handing it back to Nate.

To his surprise, the teacher now appeared in the photo, clear as day. Huh, maybe it hadn't developed completely when he first looked at it. Nathan shot the teacher an apologetic glance as Romania extended a hand to help him up.

The teacher smiled and patted Nate on the shoulder. "Vell," he sighed. "I sink I vill be taking zis anyvay." He swiped the picture from Nathan's fingers and slipped it into one of the numerous pockets that dotted his coat.

The Romanian lingered a moment. "You know, I just sought you vere some dumb pothead. But zat vas qvite perceptive, Nasan. Alzough zose glances vere a bit rude."

Nathan nodded bashfully. "Sorry, sir. Uh... wait, what was percep-"

He looked up, but the teacher had vanished into thin air.

_What in the..._

Shivering a little, Nathan gathered up his things and hurried on to meet a glowing Rosa.

...

"Wow, yeah. No way. Weird coincidences. I'm glad you apologized, that guy probably felt really embarrassed." Rosa rolled her eyes as the two walked quickly to Design & Architecture.

"Dude, he was practically _asking_ for someone to figure it out!" Nathan exclaimed. "Showin' those pictures and everything, givin' that assignment..."

"You shouldn't stereotype people based on appearances!" Rosa chastised him. A loud laugh came from a classroom as they passed, but they didn't have time to stop and investigate. "But I'd love to meet this guy. I can't believe he wasn't French, though. Man, and I had a Swiss!"

"A Swiss?"

"A guy from Switzerland, dipfuck." Nathan winced at the insult, but didn't have time for a comeback as they opened the door to Dez & Arch.

A serious-looking blond man was sitting at the desk, but Nathan and Rosa didn't have time to take in his appearance just yet. They needed to get their hands on the protractors and compasses that actually worked, as well as the best-charged battery-powered drill, before all the other socially awkward, glued-to-their-computers future engineers swarmed the supply closet.

By the time Nathan and Rosa had finished haggling over the supplies with a rather talkative girl named Eliza and a sour, cold young sophomore named Elena, and had laid all their articles out in their workspace, the two finally managed to get a look at their newest sub.

And what a look he gave them back! Rosa and Nathan were so taken aback by the teacher's dark glare that both had to duck their heads in shame. When Rosa (the manlier) finally raised her head again, the teacher had pulled a Romania and was standing directly in front of her and Nathan's desk.

"Yes, sir?" Rosa peeped. As the hulking mass of a teacher slowly began sizing her up, she, along with the cowering Nathan, was finally able to get a good look at him.

Behind the deadly glare lay small, cold blue eyes covered by half-moon glasses, which lay on a broad, square, hairless face. His hair was spiky and blond, his coat long and a deep navy, his tall boots shiny and brown. He stood at least six feet tall, and looked more like a professional arm-breaker than anything else-a Viking misplaced in time. In short, a guy you did NOT want to mess with.

"Names?" He asked in a voice too low and deep to distinguish an accent.

"Rosalina Hart, sir," Rosa said for the third time that day.

"Good," he said in an accent that made it sound like guut. "And you?"

"Nate," Nathan squeaked.

"Very good." The teacher frowned deeper. "Y'two're seniors... juniors... soph'mores..."

"Um, I'm a senior. He's a junior," said Rosa, fiddling with the buttons on her flannel shirt.

"Good. Ros'lina and Nad'n. Please have a seat. I'll be attendin' to d'class shortly." The teacher coughed, then turned back to the teacher's desk and sat down.

"That's not the Russian guy, is it?" Nathan whispered to Rosa.

"No... no. The Russian guy smiled," Rosa reminded him. "He's new."

Rosa raised her eyes only to discover the teacher staring at her again. She'd already had enough of it. What was this dude's problem? And where was he from? His accent was both gruff and lyrical, although it did seem vaguely Germanic...

"Did you want to see me, sir?" Rosa asked, cutting through the silence.

The teacher frowned, then opened his mouth. "Your hair. It is good. I like it."

"My... oh." Rosa ran a hand over her mohawked head. "Um, thank you," she blushed.

"You are welcome." He seemed to blush a little bit too, and ducked his head quickly. But Rosa wasn't done yet.

"Sir, may I ask you a question?" She called.

"Come ov'r here'f ya wanna ask."

"Alright," Rosa said as she got up, still angry that she couldn't figure out where the man hailed from.

She walked over to the desk and pulled up a chair. "May I ask where you're from?"

The man looked up. "Swed'n. 'M from Swed'n."

Rosa's eyes widened. "No. Way! I love Sweden!"

The teacher drew back a little. "Yah... sure?"

"No, no, really! I love Sweden! I want to move there after college! Will you tell us all about it? Please?"

Sweden frowned once more. "Maybe. Please sit down."

_Hmmm..._ Rosa pondered as she walked back to her seat. Maybe he's an introvert. Sweden did have its fair share of those. _Ah, so _that's_ why he's teaching this class! He's among his people!_

The little genius Canadian, Elena, was the next to introduce herself. "Elena Sima. I'm a sophomore," she said bluntly before returning to her seat. The teacher nodded and marked her down.

"Hi! I'm Eliza! I'm a junior!" Exclaimed Eliza.

The Swede stared at her, his mouth gaping slightly, for a full 30 seconds before responding with "Well. I am Sweden."

As a very confused Eliza returned to her seat, Rosa couldn't help but notice how red the teacher's cheeks were getting. What an odd combination of terrifying and vulnerable.

Soon, the bell rang. Everyone settled into their seats and immediately began tapping away on little laptops, the Apple-biters sending hate glares at the Microfags and vice versa.

"Please put d'c'mputers away'nd listen."

For the first and only time ever, everyone listened. Even Elena, who, for once in her life, looked a little scared.

The teacher cleared his throat. "My name's Mr. Oxenstierna, from Sweden. As we're now friends here, you may call me by m'nickname." He blinked. "Sve. Are dere any questions?"

Silence.

"Good. Come to me'f ya need help."

The problem with the students in this particular class was that all of them desperately needed help, but were far, far too proud to admit it. Thus, they would tap away on their computers, frown, look at the small pieces of wood in front of them, frown, silently sweat, tap away on their computers some more, and snap at anyone who politely suggested to them that perhaps their method wasn't the best for creating something as simple as a miniature house. And no, the author isn't bitter or anything.

Rosa, who had resigned herself to abandoning the computer work and taking a leap of faith with only the raw materials, noticed the teacher's ever-present frown deepen as he looked over the students. Then, abruptly, the tall Scandinavian stood up and walked over to Eliza and her unfortunate chair-in-the-making.

"Right here, s'wrong." Sweden lightly tapped a lopsided leg. "Y'gotta... shove it like dis." He rolled up his sleeves (his forearms were probably as thick as Eliza's waist) and gave the wood a good thump or two, striking it into place.

"Wow... um, thanks, sir!" Eliza giggled nervously.

"No problem." Sweden's bespectacled eyes narrowed as he noticed Rosa staring. "Didja need help, Rosalina?"

"Oh, no thanks, sir," Rosa replied as a reflex.

"I think ya'cd use some help with dis." The teacher clapped a bear-sized hand onto a piece of wood that Rosa simply could not whittle down to the proper length.

"Actually, yeah, I forgot about that," Rosa smoothly recovered. "You see..." She explained how it was too small for machine cutting, and cutting it by hand was laborious.

"I'cn help," he said gruffly after listening to her story. With remarkable delicacy despite his fat fingers, Sweden set to work manually cutting the bit down to Rosa's preferred length. It took all of five minutes. "Dere ya go. Good job."

"Wow, thanks," Rosa mimicked Eliza as she giddily continued working.

It was as if the smell of sawdust and the piercing shriek of saws whittled away all of the teacher's social anxiety. He was completely in his element as he set to work obliterating all the students' roadblocks, leaving a trail of grateful "Thank you, sir's" in his wake.

For once in the class's entire history, everyone finished up a section of work with time to spare for cleanup and dilly-dallying... as well as a few surprises.

"Haven't seen such hardworkin' 'Mericans since nineteen-for... eh... Anyway, I tink you d'serve a treat." With that, he took a large container out of his desk and opened it to reveal a perfectly delicious-looking (if a tad squished) strawberry shortcake. Rosa was strongly reminded of Hagrid.

Lacking forks, knives, and plates, the hungry future engineers dug in with their hands.

"Mmmm!" Rosa sighed. "Did you make this, sir?"

"No," he replied, carefully licking frosting off giant fingers. "M'wife did. I helped."

"Is she a really good cook?" Eliza asked innocently.

Sweden looked up for a second. "M'wife is not a woman."

Silence. Very, very unwanted mental images raced through every student's mind, nearly ruining the cake.

"Oh... well, he must be a really good cook then! Haha!" Eliza recovered, visibly shaken.

Should have expected as much from a Swede, Rosa thought with a laugh.

But before the students could react any further, another surprise came literally bursting through the door.

An axe-wielding, bedraggled blonde beefcake dressed in a bright red button-down and long black pants half-entered the classroom, dramatically limping, as though he'd just trekked across the entirety of Lapland. His yellow hair was even more mussed than usual, his laughing blue eyes looked crazed, and he was panting harder than France after **REDACTED**.

"SVERIGE." Denmark addressed the substitute, brandishing his axe. "I NEED DRILL. HAMMER. AYNYTING. RIGHT. NOW."

The Swede looked concerned. "D... Den? Why do you need-"

"BECAUSE OF _DIS_!" Denmark heaved his other leg into the classroom, and the cause of his limp became known-a tiny black-and-green-haired girl was clinging to him like an (adorable) tumor, a look of pure bliss evident upon her freckled visage.

"FOR LIKE AN HOUR NOW, JA?! I NEED HER OFF, SVE! I NEED HER-"

The second the crazed Dane mentioned the word "Sve," Sophie's eyes snapped open in an instant. As soon as she noticed the supremely confused Swede sitting at the teacher's desk, however, she let out a sound that couldn't be described as human or even animal. Tearing herself from the Dane, she sprinted madly towards Sweden and collapsed onto him, attaching herself to him securely with her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"Min favorit," she sighed.

Sweden blinked a few times in rapid succession. Denmark looked stunned, but regained composure quickly.

"Oh. Weyll. Tanks den, Sophie... Denmark out." He saluted, then sidled away, casually swinging his axe and humming.

Another bout of silence, and this time, the students weren't sure what the hell to think.

Sweden coughed. "Well. Um. Class... dismissed."

As the rather dumbfounded students shuffled out of the room, Rosa accidentally bumped into a young lemon-haired man rushing in the opposite direction.

"Oh, jeez! Sorry! My fault!" The boy apologized in a high, pleading, lyrical accent. "Didn't see ya dere!" He continued on to the classroom, leaving the scent of flour and strawberries behind him.

"It's okay..." Rosa called after him. Then she stopped and glanced at Nate, who gave her a look. They both peeked back into the classroom.

"Fin, m'wife, could ya help me with dis?"

The lemon-haired boy pressed his fist to his mouth. "Hmmm, ya... that's quite de predicament, dere..." Standing next to the tall, thickly built Swede, the five-foot-something foreigner looked even skinnier and weaker than he actually was, coming up to only about Sweden's chest.

The two students leaned away from the classroom and continued walking to their next class. "Nate, you know I'm all for rights and equality and all..."

"Me too..."

"But, shit, that's one _ass_-tearing size difference, and now I can't think about anything else."

Nate could only nod, wince, and try not to allow those naughty mental images into his head.

**Hey, how much do you guys hate me? : / It's been a long time. Anyway, SandyBardic, IT HAPPENED. And... this was fun! So um... bye! And I love you guys. SO. MUCH. And I'm sorry for abandoning you.**


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